


Wish You Were Here

by Paige_Turner36



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Once Upon a Time (TV), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Aesop’s Tables, Alice in Wonderland and Other Places, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Belle, Anti-CS, Anti-Emma, Anti-Herocrites, Anti-Hook, Anti-Maurice (Once Upon a Time), Anti-Scarlet Beauty, Anti-Zelena, Avonlea - Freeform, Belle’s Memory Stone, Belle’s necklace, Cora’d, Curse of the Poisoned Heart, Dagger Enslavement, Disowned, Dr. Jekyll's Serum, Dreamcatcher, Emma Swan engaged, Episode AU: S02e19 Lacey, Episode AU: s01e12 Skin Deep, Episode AU: s04e06 Family Business, Episode AU: s06e02 A Bitter Draught, Episode AU: s06e03 The Other Shoe, Episode AU: s06e04 Strange Case, Episode AU: s06e06 Dark Waters, Episode AU: s06e07 Heartless, Episode AU: s06e08 I’ll Be Your Mirror, Episode AU: s06e09 the Changeling, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Game of Thorns, Go Now reference, Gold & Weaver Pawnbrokers & Antiquities Dealers, Golden Godparents, Her Handsome Hero book, Hook Bashing, Kintsugi Chipped Cup, Land of Untold Stories (Once Upon a Time), Magic Glove (La Belle Et La Bête 1946), Major Wish-Character Death(s), MirrorSpace, Mother’s Love Shield, Mr Gold’s Walther Pistol, Multi-POV, NO Golden Queen Romance, Olive Branch, Olympus (Once Upon a Time), Practice Marriage, Reunion Sex, Robert’s Lucky Coin, Rumbelle Dance – For the Dancing and the Dreaming Dance (How to Train Your Dragon 2), Rumbelle Sonogram, Rumple Haircut, Rumple’s Letter, Rumple’s Tape, Sands of Morpheus, Season 6a AU, Self-Mutilation, Shell Phone, Sir Maurice François of Avonlea is Belle’s father NOT Moe French/Jacques François, Six-Leaf Clover, Slightly Anti-Outlaw Queen, Snow Slushed, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Suicide Attempt, Swanfire feels, The Most Powerful Magic of All: True Love, The Sorcerer’s Mansion, The truth about Colette’s death, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Water from the River of Lost Souls, Wedding Rings, Wish Realm (Once Upon a Time), Wish Realm Once Upon a Time Storybook, Wish-Belle is the Author, Wish-Belle is the Guardian, Wishing Star, anti-regina, crossing over, dream realm, girls night, out of body experience, protection spell, sonogram, the Dark One dagger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27233233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paige_Turner36/pseuds/Paige_Turner36
Summary: Wish-Belle travels over from the Land of Untold Stories to get revenge on the man who killed her husband. Refusing to lose another Belle, Rumple steps in to stop her darkening her soul and losing her baby. Both pariahs and missing their soulmates, Rumple and Mrs Weaver form a close friendship. As Belle watches Rumple from afar caring for her heavily pregnant other self the way he would’ve cared for her – if she’d let him – she wonders whether she made a mistake giving up so fast.
Relationships: Belle & Rumplestilskin | Mr. Gold Children, Belle & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Children, Prince Charming | David Nolan & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold & Emma Swan, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Emma Swan, Stoick the Vast/Valka, Wish Realm Belle Weaver/Rumplestiltskin | Mr Gold – Friendship, Wish Realm Rumplestiltskin Weaver/Wish Realm Belle Weaver
Comments: 34
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite of FTL events of Skin Deep, Lacey, and The Changeling. Reference to fics ‘The Promise’ and ‘Finding Bae’ and the original Skin Deep script.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT. This is for fun and not for profit.

_Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free._

The moment the split-Evil Queen left his shop Rumple retreated into the backroom, ripping off his tie. Regina’s darker-self had been playing with it seductively while they had made their deal; Prince Charming’s father’s Lucky Coin to be used to cause discord amongst the Heroes and in return she would leave Belle and their unborn child out of her plans. Ever since he was enslaved by Zelena for over a year Rumple couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone other than Belle touching him.

Removing the gold tie pin that Belle had given him, he threw his now tainted tie into the bin. He would never be able to wear that tie again. Nor this suit jacket, which he promptly shed like snake skin and pulled out a fresh one from the cupboard.

The shop bell rang in the main part of the shop, announcing the arrival of a procession, no doubt. Rumple ignored whoever it was. He was done being at the constant beckon call of the Heroes. Regina had unleashed her darkness onto the town rather than learn to deal with it; she should be the one to clean up her own mess. He’d had enough to cope with at the moment.

‘Hello?’ called a soft and very familiar voice from behind the curtain. A voice he never thought he would hear again. ‘Anyone here?’

Rumple approached the curtain cautiously and peered through the gap. It was Belle. She stood in the middle of his shop, wrapped in a travelling cloak over a pale blue dress, looking anxiously left and right as if searching for someone.

But why would she be looking for him? Last time they spoke Belle told him in no uncertain terms that she had no intension of making a home with the man she regretted saving and darkening herself for, that she believed the vision of their ‘son’ telling her that Rumple would destroy them, and that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, before walking through the portal back to Storybrooke and out of his life forever.

So what had changed in the hours that they had been apart that she would be seeking him out now?

Rumple stepped out from behind the curtain, making his presence known. Belle turned towards him and gave an odd, shuddering gasp when she saw him, as if she hadn’t seen him in years.

‘You’re alive…’ she said tremulously.

Rumple raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was not the reaction he had expected from the woman who saw him as a threat to their child.

‘Oh, Rumple. You’re alive.’

Next moment, Belle had crossed the room in three strides and flung her arms around his neck. Rumple staggered a little, slightly nonplussed, but returned the hug nonetheless.

‘Well I was the last time I looked…’ he said bewildered.

Belle sniffled. He could feel her trembling.

‘Belle, what is it?’ said Rumple anxiously. ‘What’s happened, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Hey.’

He had tried to pull back to look at her, but Belle just clung tighter to him, eyes screwed shut, refusing to let him go, shaking with barely suppressed sobs. Rumple was getting seriously worried now.

‘Darling, what is it? Don’t cry. Please.’ He hated seeing Belle cry, but not as much as he hated being the reason she cried. ‘Please,’ Rumple pleaded with her softly, ‘tell me what I can do? How do I make this right? Tell me, please.’

‘Hold me…’ Belle implored him, as though her life depended on it.

Rumple nodded vigorously. ‘Of course.’

Rumple hugged Belle back comfortingly, stroking her hair, soothing her. He would hold her for the rest of his life if that was what she wanted him to do. They stayed this way for a long time, revelling in the feel of each other, as if they had been separated by a thousand years.

At last Belle gently broke the hug and Rumple, very reluctantly, not wanting to lose the closeness he’d only just got back, drew back, keeping his hands on her upper arms so as not to lose contact with her. She looked desperately sad and quite appalled with herself.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at him.

‘For what?’

Then Rumple felt a small kick against his stomach. Looking down his eyes widened when he saw Belle’s swollen stomach pressed so close to his that he could feel the baby moving inside her. Or he would’ve thought she had a football stuffed under her dress. Only now did Rumple realise that the Belle he had been hugging was not only heavily pregnant but that she was lined around her eyes and looked much older, but her hair was still lusciously brown and her beautiful eyes were clear blue. She was wearing her wedding ring – a ring made of two entwined Rumple-spun gold threads. But the big flashing light red light telling him that this was not his Belle was the way that this Belle was looking at him; with apology, with faith… with _love_.

There could only be one explanation. He should have known it was all too good to be true.

‘You came from the Land of Untold Stories,’ said Rumple sadly, releasing the woman who was not his wife.

The other Belle nodded. ‘Yes.’ She took a step away from him, looking deeply ashamed. Though in fairness, she never said or implied she was his wife. ‘I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to remember what it felt like to be held by him. Just for a moment.’

‘Where is your husband?’ Rumple asked her. ‘Where’s your Rumple?’

Pain flickered across the other Belle’s face and her eyes burned with tears. ‘Dead.’ She rubbed her round stomach. ‘The rest is history.’

Rumple looked shocked. ‘How?’

‘He was murdered by an off-worlder. When it’s not your story... bad things happen.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

The other Belle now looked around the dingy shop, realising who was missing. ‘Where’s your wife? Where’s your Belle?’

Rumple swallowed. ‘…gone.’

The other Belle bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘She’s not dead,’ Rumple explained. ‘She’s just… not in love with me anymore. She thinks I’m dangerous. That’ll destroy our child.’

The other Belle looked dumbfounded. ‘Why would she think that? You love your family more than anything. How could she think that?’

‘Because our unborn son told her in a dream… after she rejected our True Love’s Kiss.’

‘What? That’s insane. How far along is she?’

‘Not very.’

‘Your baby is no more than a cluster of cells. They shouldn’t be able to form any kind of opinion of their parents.’

‘Regardless, my wife believes it. And if Belle believes it then it must be true. No matter what I do… Belle will not have me.’

‘Well she’s wrong,’ said the other Belle stubbornly.

Rumple bowed his own head. ‘I fear our story is starkly different from yours. Tell me, where does your story deviate after you left my castle?’

The other Belle frowned, confused. ‘I never left.’

‘What?’ said Rumple distracted, raising his head.

‘I stayed.’

Rumple couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He remembered that day in his castle dungeon as though it had happened yesterday. Why would this Belle have stayed?

‘But I told you to go?’ he reminded her. ‘I said I didn’t want you anymore? I tried to convince you my power meant more to me than you?’

‘And I didn’t believe him,’ said the other Belle, referring to her husband in the third-person. ‘He just didn’t believe I could love him.’

‘And then you told me I’d regret it, and left me with an empty heart and a chipped cup.’

‘And I stayed to prove he was wrong. He told me to go, I said no. He magicked me outside the castle, I stood at the gates. When it rained he told me he wouldn’t care if I died. When I still wouldn’t go, he threatened to kill himself. Then when he came out again… he told me he loved me. I nearly died of hyperthermia, but it was worth it. He nursed me back to health, he apologised about ten times a day and when I was better we set out to find Baelfire together.’

‘What about the Dark One? Doesn’t – didn’t that bother you?’

The other Belle smiled at him. ‘I love him… all of him… even the parts that belonged to the darkness. I accepted him for all he was as he accepted me. When we kissed, when he was ready, the darkness turned to light and the Dark One was laid to rest. The curse was broken but his magic remained and his immortality was severed.’

Rumple didn’t know what to say. This was like something out of a dream, a dream of what could’ve been. He had spent countless times imagining how he could’ve done things differently with regards to his relationship with Belle, from what if he’d never let her go to what if he had never made that deal for her in the first place. But through his self-loathing, he had never contemplated, not even once, what _Belle_ could’ve done differently.

What if Belle had just listened to him at the town line? What if Belle had never brought him back at the expense of his first-born son? What if Belle had _stayed_?

‘Why were you in the Land of Untold Stories?’ Rumple asked the other Belle, deciding not to dwell on meaningless hypotheticals.

‘Trying to find my husband’s killer,’ the other Belle explained. ‘His contravention destroyed our world, decimating its inhabitants. Those of us that survived fled to the Land of Untold Stories. He has to answer for all the lives he destroyed. I’ve had no luck tracking him down until recently. Some strangers came to town and he was amongst them. They disappeared through a portal so I followed him.’

‘Who was he?’ said Rumple curiously.

The other Belle shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s not for you to worry about, Mr…?’

‘Gold.’

‘Belle Weaver. Pleased to meet you.’

Rumple took her offered hand and shook it. ‘The pleasure is mine, Mrs Weaver.’

‘Thank you for your time. Unless…’ She glanced around at the many wonderful trinkets. ‘You don’t perhaps have a rattle or something for the baby?’

Rumple smiled. ‘I know just the thing.’ The other Belle was already reaching for her drawstring purse. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s a present. Welcome to Storybrooke.’

The other Belle smiled awkwardly. ‘I’m a pariah.’

‘Welcome to Storybrooke,’ said Rumple again with a nervous chuckle, the smiling muscle straining from lack of anything to smile about. ‘One moment.’

Rumple went into the back room again. He took an ornate box from the top shelf and opened it. Inside was an antique silver plated and mother of pearl baby rattle shaker. He took it out and gave a little shake. It tinkled musically. He smiled at it.

He felt a tickling feeling on his wrist and saw it was one of Mrs Weaver’s hairs. Then his eyes lingered on a dreamcatcher hanging above him. He took it down, picked the strand of hair off him and weaved it into its web which glowed with golden light.

He couldn’t help himself… he had to know… he had to see…

He gazed into the centre of the dreamcatcher, entranced by what he was seeing...

Rumple watched the magical events of their time at the Dark Castle play out almost exactly as they had in his reality. Though he did notice subtly differences. This Belle never tried to renege on her promise to go with him forever and try to escape on her first night after her Rumple had received word that the ogres had fallen back from Avonlea. She was a little more grateful of the pillow Rumple gave her to help her sleep (though of course he pretended otherwise) and, whilst hunting down Robin Hood, refused to believe his claims in that he loved his things or that there was no man hiding behind the beast.

_‘You cannot be as dark as people say.’_

_‘No. I’m darker, dearie. MUCH darker.’_

_‘I refuse to believe that,’ said Belle_

_Rumple scoffed, before promptly holding out his hand like a gentleman to help her step out of the carriage and barely a few minutes later protected her against the Sheriff of Nottingham, refusing to let him have his wicked way with her, not even when it meant getting information on the thief’s whereabouts._

Again he saw this Rumple hesitate when he saw that Maid Marian was with child and Belle, unknowingly appealing to the father in him, telling him he was not the kind of man to leave a child fatherless, before sparing Robin Hood’s life.

Then a few months later he rescued Belle from the Queens of Darkness and had allowed his feeling to get the better of him, assuring her that even with the gauntlet they still wouldn’t be able to harm her. Belle’s reaction had been different here too.

_‘They still won’t be able to harm you,’ he told her desperately._

_Belle stared at him astonished. This was the most open she had ever seen Rumple. He was always so composed and in control, now he looked like he’d never been more scared in his entire life, as if the thought of losing her was too terrible to even contemplate. As if she was more than just a maid to him._

_‘I was so scared,’ she confessed. Her body was shaking from the rush of adrenaline._

_‘They will never lay a finger on you again,’ he vowed, mistaking her shaking for fear, eying the bruises around her neck darkly and making a mental note to fillet that Sea Bitch._

_Belle shook her head. ‘I wasn’t afraid of dying... I was afraid I would never see you again.’_

_Then before Rumple could protest, Belle collapsed against him, a sob escaping her, the weight of everything that had happened to her catching up with her, gripping his lapels as best she could with her hands still bound together. Rumple held her awkwardly, looking a little terrified that anyone would willingly seek comfort in the arms of the Dark One. Not sure what to do any more than when she had first hugged him in Sherwood Forest, Rumple patted her gingerly on the head._

_‘Well… good help is really hard to find these days,’ he said, attempting a quip._

_Belle giggled. ‘Like a four leaf clover.’_

_‘Hm?’_

_‘True friends are like a four leaf clover: impossible to find, but lucky to have.’_

_‘Yes…’ said Rumple quietly, unsure whether he was glad or sad that Belle saw him as a ‘friend’, stroking her hair. ‘Lucky, indeed…’_

Later he returned home with the gauntlet, banishing it to his vault. When Belle questioned his modus operandi of never breaking a deal, Rumple answered that he paid a ransom not made a deal. Then, seeing the faint look of disappointment in her eyes, he elaborated saying that whilst he can ensure that the Queens of Darkness can never lay a finger on her again (having made a protection spell from their hairs), didn’t mean that others won’t want to hurt her to get to him if they got their hands on or heard rumours of what the gauntlet pointed to.

Then he saw the other Rumple bringing home the baby of Jack and Jill, which he set gently in front of Belle, leaving him in her tender care ( _‘feed him, change him, entertain him – you know: keep him alive’_ ), though warning her against even thinking about hiding or attempting to run away with the infant. He returned later to find the domestic scene of Belle finishing reading one of her favourite stories to the baby ( _‘there is the great lesson of 'Beauty and the Beast,' that a thing must be loved before it is lovable’_ ). There followed a scene of the two of them working together in the library he had built for her, having asked her help with translating a scroll written in ancient Fae, confessing that he was a bit rusty. But upon realising she had just translated an incantation to summon the child-snatching Black Fairy, Belle became understandably upset. Rumple had the grace to look ashamed, but picked up the baby and made ready disappeared to the meeting spot to call upon the Black Fairy.

_‘Rumple, please tell me you’re not actually going to hand this child over to that woman.’_

_Rather than answer her Rumple headed towards the door, carrying the baby, with a dismissive, ‘Just read another book. Pick whatever you want from the shelf –’_

Both Rumple’s flinched as Belle threw an ink bottle ferociously against the wall, shattering it, forcing him to stop.

_‘Don’t you DARE talk to me that way! Don’t you EVER use me as an accessory! And don’t you DARE lump me in with the rest of the little desperate souls that you think are so stupid and naïve and predictable! You don’t get to drop something like this on me and pretend like it’s nothing! You put me in charge of looking after this baby, you dragged me into this – the least you can do is do me the courtesy of explaining why!’_

_Rumple looked a little cowed. He looked down at the baby, who incredibly was still asleep, and then at Belle, who looked angry at being exploited like this and hurt that after all they’d been through he would treat her this way._

_‘If I wanted the Black Fairy to have this child I would have let her take him last night,’ said Rumple quietly. ‘But even then she would have only existed in this world for just a few moments before being pulled back to the Dark Realm, where she’s trapped. I needed this spell translated so that I’ll be able to keep her here long enough to have a little word with her.’_

_‘So you saved him?’ said Belle, ‘Only to use him as bait to lure his would-be abductor?’_

_‘Rather a crude way of putting it, but I suppose it apt, given the circumstances.’_

_‘What business could you possibly have with that fairy?’_

_Rumple hesitated, wondering whether or not to tell her, then he said, ‘Entirely personal,’ he told her quietly. ‘All you need to know is I’m doing what’s best for everyone.’_

_‘I can’t just stand by and watch you do this.’_

_‘Then don’t come.’_

_And with that Rumple and the baby vanished in a puff of red smoke._ _Belle followed him on foot._

_Belle heard Rumple calling to the night in a distant clearing and watched from behind the bushes as the Black Fairy appeared from the Dark Realm and approached the bundle of baby blankets left in the middle of the glade. But instead of containing the child she had hoped to steal the previous night, she discovered, too late, it was a lump of wood covered in squid ink. This surprised both Belle and the immobilised fairy._

_‘Sorry, Dearie. ‘Fraid not.’_

_Rumple stepped out from behind the trees, carrying the real baby, magically extracted the Black Fairy’s essence from the wood she had touched and fashioned a spell that would make it impossible for her to steal not only this baby but any future descendants he may have, which he cast upon the infant._

_After handing the baby back to Belle, Rumple turned to ask the evil fairy who stole babies from their mother’s arms the question he wanted to ask his entire life:_ _‘Why did you abandon the one child who was actually yours?’_

_But the Black Fairy just laughed remorselessly and told him that sometimes you have to choose power over love, then tossed him to the ground like a piece of rubbish. And to add insult to injury, she said, ‘And Rumplestiltskin? Don’t come looking for me again… You’re not wanted.’ Then she beat her wings and returned to her prison, abandoning her child once again._

_Belle approached him cautiously, carrying the baby. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, apologised for thinking he was going to sacrifice the baby, she told him that his mother was an awful woman and that she understood how he must be feeling. Only to have a distraught Rumple shrug her off._

_‘No one knows anything about my pain,’ Rumple growled in a shaky voice, his enormous eyes filled with tears making them inflate even larger, still staring up at the sky where his mother had flown away without so much as a backwards glance._

_Nobody knew Jack about his pain, least of all Belle. She may have lost her mother, Colette, but at least she had been there her entire life. She had cared for her and looked after her, had given her life for her. Because she loved her. Even her father, Maurice, loved her enough to be present in her life. Rumple’s castle may be full of difficult to find treasures, but Belle had the one treasure he will never have: the love of a parent for their son._

_Then he disapperated, leaving Belle standing alone in the clearing, holding the baby._

_Belle returned the baby to Jack and Jill, who thanked her for what she did for their family, not knowing that it was all Rumple’s doing. Rumple watched the little family reunited, watched how Jill clutched her baby son to her like she never wanted to let him go. Unlike his own mother. When Belle arrived back at the castle she found a despondent Rumple sitting by the fire, playing with the shawl from the remembrance she had accidentally interrupted. She thought of the room of children’s clothes, a leather ball and a child’s coal drawing of a strangely familiar handsome, yet world-weary man with shaggy hair and soulful eyes. Sensing that he didn’t want to talk to her right now, Belle left him alone, knowing that he would come and find her when he was ready._

_Later than evening, Rumple tenderly folded up Baelfire’s shawl, returned it to its hiding place and, feeling the long absence of Belle, when he went down to the kitchens to look for her. He reached the bottom of the stairs and discovered that Belle had baked him a chocolate cake and a mouth-watering meat pie that tasted like one of the spinsters’ hugs and wished him a happy un-birthday. She came over to him, took his hands in both her own and told him that his mother may not appreciate how special her son is, but there was one person in this castle who was very happy that Rumplestiltskin was born._

Rumple felt his own throat tighten as the thoroughly overwhelmed other Rumple looked as though he couldn’t find the words to express what Belle’s words meant to him.

He watched again as Belle pulled down the curtains, letting the light in and falling into Rumple’s arms. Rumple giving her the rose, asking her why she decided to come with him ( _‘Duty, sacrifice…’_ ), and sending her to town to fetch him some straw with the promise of telling her his story… _if_ she returned. Belle meeting the Evil Queen on the road, who tried to feed her some flights of fancy about heroism and true love’s kiss. Belle coming back to Rumple, who asked why she came back, and Belle telling him that he and the castle were her home, her complete sincerity prompting Rumple to confess that no woman had ever looked at him the way Belle was looking at him now, not even his wife.

Then came their disastrous first kiss. The kiss of true love. This Belle may not have initiated the kiss with the intention of deliberately breaking his curse, but the mere mention of her breathing the same air as Queen Regina was enough to make the other Rumple believe Belle was working with her, if not trying to be the hero who killed the beast. His love for Belle stretched just far enough to lock her in the dungeons so that he wouldn’t take out his anger on her, but not enough to stop him coming down the following morning to tell her to go…

_‘Go?’ Belle repeated._

_Rumple shrugged minutely. ‘I don’t want you anymore, Dearie,’ he said, attempting indifference._

_Fighting back tears, Belle gently set the chipped teacup down, stood up, full of dignity, shook her skirt straight and did as instructed. But when she reached the door she stopped. Then marched straight back again and faced Rumple defiantly. ‘No. It was working!’ Her voice shook a little, but she held it together. ‘True Love’s Kiss takes two! That would never have worked if it was just one-sided. Which means you feel the same about me as I do about you. For that one moment you had happiness; you really believed with all your heart that someone could want you.’_

_Rumple narrowed his reptilian eyes. Belle was not intimidated._

_‘That’s why you really stopped it. Because it was real. And that scared you.’_

_‘That’s a lie,’ Rumple sneered._

_Belle stepped closer, glaring into his eyes. She would very much like to meet the bastard who’d made Rumple believe that he was unworthy of love, that he didn’t deserve to be loved, that no one could ever love him. The Black Fairy had scarred him for life. But who had scarred him romantically?_

_‘Who hurt you, Rumplestiltskin?’_

_Rumple stiffened, giving himself away._

_‘Because whoever that was, whatever they did, that’s not me.’_

_‘How do you know?’ These words seemed forced from Rumple’s lips without his consent, but he couldn’t take it back. Trying to cover up his mistake he tried to appear cruel and condescending. ‘I’m not a coward, Dearie. It’s quite simple, really. My power means more to me that you.’_

_Belle moved ever closer. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No, it doesn’t. You just don’t think I can love you.’_

_Rumple said nothing._

_‘So I’m just going to have to prove it. I’m staying.’_

_‘I don’t want you here.’_

_‘Yes, you do.’_

_‘I want you to leave.’_

_‘No you don’t.’_

_‘I order you to leave!’_

_‘I’m not your maid anymore! You released me from our deal which gives me absolute freedom to do whatever the hell I like!’_

_‘A deal which said you would go with me forever! As you said, you’re no longer bound by the terms of our deal!’_

_‘Exactly! I’m staying with you of my own free will, not by contract or obligation, but because I choose you!’_

_Rumple seemed to be fighting the urge to shout or to vomit. ‘I won’t ask you again,’ he said his voice shaking. ‘Spare yourself a lifetime of pain and misery. Go.’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Belle, just bloody go.’_

_‘No!’_

_Rumple hesitated then he waved his hand he had magicked Belle out of the castle and deposited her outside the gates which locked. She tried to open them, but no sooner had she touched them did they propel her backwards and she landed hard in a muddy puddle. A dirt-spattered Belle glared up at the window to her library where Rumple had recently moved his work bench and spinning wheel, where she knew he was watching her._

_‘I’m staying!’ she shouted up to him._

Just as the other Belle told him, she had stood resolutely in the pouring rain outside the castle gates, pacing back and forth, refusing to budge, watched by Rumple from the library window. After two hours he came out to tell her she was going to catch her death out here. He told her coldly she would die and he wouldn’t care.

_‘I r-r-r-refuse t-t-to believe that,’ said Belle, her teeth chattering._

_‘You don’t believe you’ll freeze to death?’_

_‘I d-d-don’t believe you w-w-wouldn’t care.’_

_Rumple growled at her rather than admit she was right before returning to his position in front of the window for another game of endurance. After only an hour he came back out again after witnessing Belle stumble, so cold that she could hardly keep herself standing. She was wet through by now, her lips were tinged with blue and she looked very pale, yet it shone with hope as he approached the gates that separated them, looking anguished. Then he held up a wavy dagger with his name engraved upon it._

_‘If you don’t go…’ he told her, a quaver in his voice, ‘…I’ll kill myself.’_

_He didn’t teleport back to the castle; he walked back, leaving Belle standing there alone in the rain, shivering, and hugging herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. She sniffed. In the great hall, a dripping Rumple stood staring around the room, taking in the destruction he had wrought, but more specifically the lingering feeling of Belle: her leaf patterned traveling cloak slung over the back of his chair, the curtain-less windows letting in the light, dim though it was, the unfinished story they had been reading together, before they lingered on the chipped cup on the tea tray. He felt like he was seeing what his life would be like without Belle._

_He walked over to look out the window. Belle was still there, staring through the bars at him, waiting for him to let her in. And in that moment he knew that he had been defeated. In that moment he knew that despite everything he had done to convince her that he was an unlovable monster, she was still here, refusing to leave his side because she loved him – the good man behind the beast, and the beast who was more human than most men. And in that moment he realised he couldn’t stand another second without Belle in his life and was so inexpressibly glad that she hadn’t left and hadn’t died._

_He walked slowly down the drive in the pouring rain. Belle watched him coming towards her, anxiously. The gates swung magically open as he approached. Rumple stopped in front of Belle, and Belle waited to hear what he was about to say. His tears masked by the rain, he said in a broken whisper, ‘I love you…’_

_For a moment Belle wondered if she was delirious with cold, then, looking weak with relief, fell into Rumple’s waiting arms as her legs gave way, and hugged him tight. Rumple carried her back to the castle and settled her in bed in his chambers, where he proceeded conjuring a roaring fire, placed many warming pans between the sheets, magically changing Belle’s wet maid’s dress into a soft warm nightdress and wrapping her in a multitude of blankets. He sat next to her on the bed, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other hand feeding her a spoonful of hot soup mixed with some Pepperup potion from the bowl suspended in mid-air._

In the shop Rumple blinked not realising until that moment that his cheeks were wet as he watched what might have been. The tears came faster as he watched the other Rumple and Belle working together to find Baelfire. During their search Rumple and Belle helped Mulan defeat the Yaoguai/break Prince Phillips curse ( _‘Hey! Dragon. DRA-GON, not lizard. I don’t do that tongue thing’_ ), allowing him to rescue his Sleeping Beauty, helped Queen Elsa, Princess Anna and the Snow Queen, Ingrid, discover the truth about the late King and Queen of Arendelle and bring peace to their family (Anna had been deeply shocked to discover Belle had fallen in love with the twisted wizard she had warned her about), then travelled to Dunbroch and helped Queen Merida rescue her brothers, unite the four clans and, after finding out King Fergus never used the enchanted helm during that fateful battle, avenged her father’s death by defeating King Arthur and freeing the cursed Queen Guinevere, Sir Lancelot and the Kingdom of Camelot from his tyranny.

They finally located Bae in Neverland and brought him and the other Lost Boys home with them after defeating Pan. He watched the other Rumple kiss Belle in the Dark Castle, willingly giving up his curse now that he had found his son and becoming Rumplestiltskin the man again and discovering, to his surprise, that he still had magic – _light_ magic! He saw the other Baelfire growing up with his father and new step-mother; the Evil Queen having been defeated by Snow White and Prince Charming after failing to cast her curse. He saw Baelfire and Princess Emma meeting, courting, getting married and giving birth to their fraternal twins, Henry and Alice.

He saw Rumple and Belle fulfilling a greatest wish in traveling the world; even saving a few while they were at it, including all the children from the Dark Realm. And then he witnessed the moment the other Belle telling her husband that she was pregnant and they were going to have a baby, and the other Rumple looking as though this was the most wonderful news in the world. They prepared the nursey, filling it with a menagerie of stuffed animal toys, weaved a baby blanket and clothes, the dwarves made them a crystal star mobile, and Belle – as this worlds Author – wrote down all their stories ready to read to their baby.

Rumple and Belle together – Baelfire and Princess Emma together – the Evil Queen defeated – the other Hook reduced to a fat, drunken old has-been – happy endings all round – what could spoil their happiness?

Rumple’s smile faded as he saw the one who had ripped this happy family apart. Who had killed Rumple Weaver. He watched in horror as the cutlass swung down and slice off his left hand, watched the poison coated hook stab him in the heart and, for good measure, ripped open his face with the same hook, leaving a deep diagonal scar on his face.

The coward turned away, sheathing his cutlass and picking up the bloody severed hand that bore his wedding ring; there was no remorse in his gaze, only savage pleasure that his rehearsal murder had worked and couldn’t wait to leave this Wish Realm and return to his own realm to enact justice on the real Crocodile.

The other Belle, who had witnessed this unprovoked assault, cried as her mutilated husband told her one last time that he loved her and apologised for not being able to meet their child, before dying in his wife’s arms. Belle sobbed her broken heart out, cradling her dead husband, rocking backwards and forwards.

Then she raised her head and Rumple saw the same look he had had after Hook shot Belle over the town line and making her forget him, the same look Regina had had when she discovered Snow White was the reason her stable boy had died, the same look Hook had had after Rumple had crushed Milah’s heart right in front of him; the rage, the bloodlust, the blazing eyes, the uncontrollable desire to hurt the person responsible for destroying her happiness.

She was possessed of that cold, clear sense of purpose that preceded murder.

The dreamcatcher fell from Rumple’s hands as he hurried back into the front of the shop. ‘Mrs Weaver –’

But Mrs Weaver had gone.

The shop door had been left wide open, banging slightly in the breeze against the wall. He had been so absorbed in her memories that he hadn’t heard the shop bell go off.

Worst of all, the door to his wall safe was ajar. Rumple had reworked the blood magic on it saw that it could not only be only opened by himself but that it could not be opened without his willing consent (so stealing his blood as Zelena had done was pointless). But Mrs Weaver was carrying the other Rumple’s baby; the other Rumple had willingly given up his essence to his true love, so she could easily break through the charm.

Rumple looked inside. All his jars of potion ingredients were still in there, their quantities untouched, even his dagger, which he had only just placed in there (his wife’s deception in the Underworld proving that it wasn’t safe to keep it on his person anymore) had been left untouched. He knew it was the real one because he could still feel the hum of magic that connected him to the enchanted blade.

But Rumple couldn’t bring himself to be relieved as he realised what it was Mrs Weaver had taken.

His Walther pistol was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumple said in 7x01: ‘When it’s not your story... bad things happen.’ But as the series went on this plotline got dropped allowing Henry Mills to interfere with Wish-Cinderella’s story without consequences. I suppose you could count Robyn & Wish-Alice, but I think theirs would only cause a tiny ripple compared to Regina killing Wish-Snowing, sending Wish-King Henry on a revenge kick and Zelena stealing the Wish-Blind Witch’s eyes and burning Wish-Hansel’s arms as punishment for his father’s rejection, setting him on a vendetta against witches.
> 
> Why make Belle the Author? Apart from being a lover of books and stories, because Belle wrote ‘Once Upon a Time’ first: www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBZ45EB7RZ0&t=24s


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs Weaver watched Mr Gold disappear into the backroom to retrieve the gift for her baby.

She could hardly believe what she had heard. Rumplestiltskin and Belle separated? Belle believing the man who had spent three centuries trying to be reunited with his son would ever want to hurt her or their baby? Belle giving up after the first test of their true love and leaving Rumple, instead of defying him and staying to prove her love?

However, Mrs Weaver always believed you couldn’t tell what was in a person heart until you truly knew them, and that you shouldn’t judge a person until you knew their full story. There must be more to theirs.

She looked around at the items on display, waiting for Mr Gold to return. Here and there she recognised with a bittersweet pang objects she had encountered in her own world on her travels with her late husband. And treasures she had once polished in the Dark Castle. This was a real Aladdin’s cave, she thought, then spotting the iconic gold oil lamp sitting on a high shelf, in between a short wide one with jewels on the side and a tall one with a beautiful decorative pattern.

Then, just as she was admiring the crystal unicorn baby mobile hanging in the front window casting white and blue lights on the wall, she saw through the glass, with a surge of shock and murderous rage, the other Captain Hook. He was grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world. Then, with another sickening lurch, she saw this world’s Princess Emma hanging off his arm like she was permanently stuck to that repulsive parasite.

Gods, what had happened to her?

This Emma looked so pale, so wan, so unlike herself, like she had had all the life, her very essence, sucked out of her. Mrs Weaver forced back a mouthful of bile as she witnessed Baelfire’s true love willingly kissing the man who had run off with his mother, killed his father, committing genocide in the process and gazing lovingly at him with the same stupid doe-eyed look on her washed-out face as the Bimbette triplets had when they fawned over Gaston.

Emma left and Hook watched her walking away with a hungry expression on his roguish face as he eyed her retreating bottom, like he couldn’t wait to tuck in to this succulent morsel. The resemblance between Hook and Gaston was uncanny. Then he turned and swaggered off in the opposite direction.

So Mrs Weaver hadn’t imagined it. She _had_ seen Hook in the Land of Untold Stories. Just as Hook had remained in Neverland where time was suspended working out how to kill Rumplestiltskin, so Mrs Weaver had stayed in the Land of Untold Stories trying to track the filthy pirate down.

And now here he was.

Mrs Weaver’s eyes roamed over all the swords, daggers, fairy wands, dwarf axes, the Wraith’s medallion, the Enchanted Candle, Pandora’s Box, a Sleeping Curse needle, all sitting on stands, in silk-lined boxes or behind glass, unable to decide which one to use, because none of them could cause Hook more pain than he had already caused her.

Then she heard a familiar buzzing inside her head and turned slowly towards the portrait on the wall behind the counter. It swung forwards revealing a black wall safe. She put a hand on the silver handle, there was a metallic click as it magically unlock and turned the handle to open it. Amongst the contents she found the source of the buzzing: Rumple’s dagger, his name engraved in silver on the blackened blade.

So Rumple was still the Dark One and was still a slave to this retched thing. Mrs Weaver had released her Rumple from this thing the moment she discovered his fate was decided by a piece of metal. If there was one thing she hated was anyone not being allowed to decide their own fate. Herself included. So why hadn’t Mrs Gold released him? Did neither of them know it was as easy as commanding his release as it was to wish for a genie’s freedom? Or did she think she was safer with Mr Gold – the Dark One – on a leash?

Next to it she saw what looked like a pistol. Without conscious thought Mrs Weaver made up her mind and picked it up, setting off to find Hook. She saw him disappearing into a building called Granny’s Diner. When she entered she found Hook standing at the counter, knocking back a glass of rum. The owner of this establishment, Granny, wasn’t there. She had either stepped outside or was in the back room.

As Hook turned to leave Mrs Weaver raised the pistol in both hands with the speed and reflexes of a cat. ‘Don’t say a word,’ she said quietly.

Hook froze when he saw her and the gun she was aiming at him, confusion and alarm on his face, apparently under the impression that he was confront with Mrs Gold. Gods, if her other self couldn’t see this pirate for who he really is Mrs Weaver would wash her hands of this universe.

‘Put that down,’ Mrs weaver jerked the gun at the empty glass, a warning look in her eyes telling him not to even think about smashing it and raising the alarm.

Hook placed the rum glass carefully down on the nearest table then raised his hand and his hook to shoulder height in a gesture of surrender.

‘You remember me?’ Mrs Weaver asked him.

Recognition ignited in Hook’s pale eyes (she was almost flattered) and the realisation of what she was doing in here Storybrooke drained the colour from his usually smug face.

‘Yeah,’ said Mrs Weaver darkly. ‘You remember me.’

‘What do you want?’ said Hook.

‘Same as you: justice for the murder of my true love. Only _my_ true love did nothing to _you_.’

‘But he had to the _other_ me,’ said Hook, as if that justified everything. ‘He took his Milah from him.’

‘He took her first,’ Mrs Weaver reminded him. ‘And do you know how he ended up? A drunken old letch, so fat he couldn’t even see his own sword. Not that you could call it a Long John. Enjoy that rum, Pirate, because you’re going to end up exactly like him.’

‘So what now?’

Mrs Weaver cocked the gun.

‘You fire that the sound will have everyone come running.’

Mrs Weaver walked right up to him and pointed the gun into his neck, forcing his chin up. ‘You’ll still be dead,’ she said calmly. ‘Do you have anything to say to me?’

‘I could have killed you,’ he told her in a low voice.

‘Maybe you should have. Or maybe you should’ve stayed the hell out of my realm. Did you think it was all just a dream? Did you think your actions wouldn’t have consequences?’

Hook took a couple of steps back from her, bracing himself against the counter with his hand. ‘You still hear his screams?’ he asked her.

‘What?’ Mrs Weaver frowned at the question, not wanting to admit that she _did_ still heard Rumple’s screams. But her hands gave her away, they were shaking.

‘I hear them every night…’ Hook confessed; his eyes distant as he stared at the murder weapon attached to his wrist, reliving the memories of that day. ‘Yeah,’ he said; his face darkening as he glared at her, defiant and callous. ‘Yeah, that bastard Crocodile got what he deserved. All versions of Rumplestiltskin deserve what he got.’

Mrs Weaver’s face contorted with fury. ‘You fucking cunt–’

BANG!

The gun went off, the bullet grazed Hook across the temple, causing him to yell and shattered the bottles of drink on the shelf above the coffee maker.

On the street outside, running at full pelt, Rumple’s heart stopped dead at the sound of the gunshot and Hook’s scream coming from the diner. In the distance he heard the screech of car tires and saw Sheriff Swan’s yellow bug reversing into view far away up the road. He had to get to Mrs Weaver first.

‘Belle!’

Rumple burst into the diner. He saw Mrs Weaver standing there holding his Walther pistol and pointing it at Hook, the side of his head bleeding.

‘Mrs Weaver…’ Rumple moved cautiously across the room and stood in front of her, his eyes pleading softly, and said gently, ‘please, put the gun down.’

‘He killed Rumple, Mr Gold,’ said Mrs Weaver, her voice trembling. ‘He killed him.’

‘I know. I know, sweetheart.’

The sound of police sirens were getting louder and louder.

‘Oh you’re in trouble now, love,’ said Hook savagely, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. ‘You’re in my world now. And these people? They will go to hell and back for me.’

‘But not all of them will come back alive,’ said Mrs Weaver coldly, having overheard the dwarves talking about their Robin Hood’s demise at the hands of Hades when she had first arrived. ‘Now another child will grow up without a father thanks to you. You should have stayed dead.’

‘He’s not worth it, Mrs Weaver,’ said Rumple with as dismissively shake of his head.

‘So he just gets to get away with it? He came to our world just to test out his poison on my husband before he used it on you.’

‘It was a Wish Realm,’ Hook argued. ‘You’re not real people.’

‘Oh I think you’ll find she’s most _definitely_ real,’ said Rumple angrily. ‘As was her husband, as is the baby she’s carrying, as were those people you destroyed, as is the gun being pointed at your thick head. Or are you telling me you cut yourself shaving?’

The door burst open and the Heroes spilled into the room, the Charmings led by Emma who had her gun drawn.

‘Oh my god, Belle – you’re awake!’ Snow gasped, believing she was addressing Belle Gold.

Charming stared at Mrs Weaver, his eyes as round as her stomach. ‘And pregnant – _a lot_ pregnant!’

Emma took in the gun trained on Hook. ‘Belle, what’re you doing?’

‘She’s not the real Belle, Swan,’ said Hook quickly, speaking as if Mrs Weaver was some shapeshifting demon. ‘She’s a fake.’

‘Belle Weaver is as real as you or I, Miss Swan,’ said Rumple firmly, seeing Emma’s look of shock turn to the look she always wore when she was facing down a new villain in town. ‘With real feelings of grief. Your lapdog’s past has finally caught up with him. He killed Mrs Weaver’s husband. He used him as a petri dish for his dreamshade poison before he used it to try to kill me.’

Emma looked to Hook. ‘Is that true?’

‘Here.’ Rumple conjured a dreamcatcher into Emma’s hand. ‘Mrs Weaver?’ said Rumple with an apologetic undertone about what he was asking her to do.

Mrs Weaver looked into the centre of the web and showed Emma, Snow and Charming the man they risked their lives to bring back from the dead murdering the Wish Realm version of Rumplestiltskin right in front of his pregnant wife. Whilst the Dark Curse had never been cast in this realm, they watched the inhabitants running away from the oncoming oblivion as the world disintegrated in reaction to Hook’s violation, desperately trying to escape through the doorway into the Realm of Untold Stories – into _any_ realm – before their own stories were erased from existence. Mrs Weaver watched again as her family and friends were swallowed up, all except her father and Robin Hood, who watched in horror as his pregnant wife Marian and his son Roland were obliterated, their deaths screams lingering even after they themselves were wiped from the face of this earth.

When the replay ended, the Charmings looked shocked and appalled, whilst Emma was looking as though her world had been destroyed; like when she had discovered that her parents, the embodiment of good and righteousness, had stolen Maleficent's baby and filled her with her own darkness and lost her down a portal, all because they were afraid there was the slightest chance that their own child would turn out evil.

‘Killian…’ said Emma faintly, her already pale face going paler.

‘That was before you knew me,’ Hook hastened to reassure her. ‘That was the man I was before.’

‘Irrelevant,’ said Rumple harshly. That was the worst apology he had ever heard. ‘Time doesn’t erase my past crimes; neither should it exclude you or our majesty the queen. I don’t mind you trying to kill me for what I did to Milah – that’s fair. I wouldn’t have cared if you had tested out your poison on some random stranger or even a real crocodile. But what I can’t condone is you hurting others except the person who wronged you. Belle had nothing to do with our feud and nor did Mr and Mrs Weaver.’

‘She’s a dream – an illusion. She has no proper existence.’

‘You always kept trophies of the people you killed. If she and her Rumplestiltskin are indeed “not real people”, then I wouldn’t be able to do this…’

Rumple waved his hand again. Mrs Weaver’s wedding ring glowed gold on her left hand as did the ring on Hook’s necklace, hanging between his skull and dagger pendant. It moved away from his chest, reaching towards its partner as if magnetized, longing to be reunited.

‘Well…’ said Rumple, snapping his fingers and the golden wedding ring appeared in his flat palm, ‘either we’re all inside someone else’s dream or that’s the late Mr Weaver’s ring. You killed him and took his ring as a souvenir.’

‘After you cut off his hand.’ Everyone looked at Mrs Weaver. ‘For your hook, you took my Rumple’s hand. For Milah, you stabbed him in the heart. For being an evil loathsome bastard, you mutilated his face. Now my child will grow up fatherless. Because of _you_!’

Mrs Weaver and Emma raised their guns again.

‘Drop the weapon!’ Emma ordered.

‘Stay out of this, Emma, before you make things worse!’ said Rumple, his arms held up between the two women in an effort to hold their fire.

‘No!’ Emma shouted. ‘I just got him back; I’m not losing him like this! She’s insane!’

‘Don’t you _dare_ try and apply reason to her actions!’ said Rumple angrily. ‘She’s a grieving woman who lost the man she loved – _you_ of all people should understand that! Look how far you went! You turned Hook into the Dark One – you dragged your entire family down to hell because you _missed_ him! Regina cast the Dark Curse to destroy Snow White over the death of her stable boy! Your mother killed Regina’s mother because she killed her handmaiden! Your bloody pirate spent centuries trying to kill me for Milah’s murder. Look what losing my son did to me – not that any of you care! And what do you think your father will do if he ever finds the man who killed your grandfather?’

Charming’s ears pricked up at that last part. ‘What did you say?’

Rumple ignored him and turned to Mrs Weaver. ‘But I won’t let you go the same way. You’re too good for this. Please, give me the gun. You’re better than this.’

‘He killed Rumple,’ Mrs Weaver repeated, not taking her eyes off Hook. ‘He took mother of your child _and_ the mother of your grandson. What’s he going to do if Emma shuffles off this mortal coil? Make a move on your second wife? Or just chase after Henry’s love interest? He just _loves_ playing with Stiltskin women.’

‘Mrs Weaver,’ Rumple pleaded, ‘you don’t want to do this.’

‘Yes I do!’

‘If you do it, you can never take it back!’ said Rumple desperately. ‘I lost my son. He died in my arms. And I lost myself. I killed the woman responsible – I failed to – and I did it without a single ounce of remorse. But it was like eating a piece of chocolate. I enjoyed the satisfaction for about ten seconds and then it was gone. And all that’s left is a gaping hole in my heart where Baelfire had been. And getting revenge on the one who killed him? It didn’t change a damn thing. You’ll still be waking up in the morning and he’ll still be dead.’

‘But he gets to live? After all he’s done?’

‘I’m no saint either.’

‘But you don’t pretend to be! You don’t try and justify your actions because you’re a “hero”!’

‘You think killing Hook will make you feel better?’

‘Yes! No!’ Mrs Weaver faltered, looking less certain. She shook her head roughly. ‘I don’t know! Just stop talking!’

But Rumple didn’t stop. Not now he was getting through to her, getting through to the part of Belle that remained untouched by the darkness of revenge. ‘Is this what Rumple wanted?’

Mrs Weaver looked like she was going through some painful internal struggle, her two instincts pulling at her until one triumphed over the other or pulled her apart. ‘You’re not my Rumple – you don’t know him –’

‘Rumple wanted you –’

‘RUMPLE’S GONE!’

At this Mrs Weaver broke and was overcome with grief, as if finally saying the words out loud ‘ _Rumple’s gone_ ’ had broken the dam holding all her emotions back. Emma and Hook were the only two people in the diner who looked unmoved by this.

‘He’s gone…’ she said, her face tear streaked.

‘Rumple’s here,’ said Rumple softly, tears welling up in his eyes too.

Mrs Weaver shook her head miserably. ‘No. He’s not here.’

But Rumple placed a tender hand on her bump, over Wish-Rumple and Wish-Belle’s baby.

‘Rumple is right _here_ …’ he said. ‘He never left you. And he never ever will. You’re right. I’m not your Rumple. But I know Rumplestiltskin – in any realm, in any alternative universe – wouldn’t want his darling Belle to darken her soul, just for _that_.’ He cast a cold look at Hook. ‘He does need to pay for what he’s done… but not like this. Or you’ll become the thing you hate. He’s what you’ll become if you do this. You don’t want to do this. Not with Rumple’s baby inside you. Your child is more important than revenge. When you’re a parent you must put your child first, no matter what. Which do you think Rumple would have you value more?’

Mrs Weaver swallowed and then sobbed into Rumple’s shoulder, dropping her gun arm, which hung limply at her side. Rumple held her while she cried; weak with relief that he had pulled her back from the great precipice and stopped her from following him into darkness.

‘It’s okay,’ he said softly.

‘It’s not okay,’ said Mrs Weaver tearfully.

‘I know,’ Rumple agreed sadly. He lowered his cheek onto the top of her head, staring into the distance. ‘But it is what it is.’

Blinking against his own tears, he continued to hold the silently sobbing Mrs Weaver, shushing her and rubbing her back.

Just then the diner door opened again and the real Belle entered, dressed in a grey coat over her daisy blouse and carrying a suitcase. She stopped short when she saw Rumple holding her weeping pregnant double, the Charmings watching them in astonishment, Hook slumped against the counter, the side of his face covered in blood and Emma, one hand pointing a gun at her doppelganger and the other holding a dreamcatcher showing the image of Rumplestiltskin with his eyes closed and his face slashed.

‘What’s been going on?’ Belle asked. Her eyes lingered on Mrs Weaver before looking questioningly at Rumple. ‘Who’s she?’

Rumple released Mrs Weaver, his eyes flickering over the suitcase in his wife’s hand. She was moving out. Out of his house… out of his life… This really was the end. The point of no return.

‘Hello Belle,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you made it home safe. May I introduce, Mrs Belle Weaver. Mrs Weaver, Mrs Belle Gold, née French.’

‘But who _is_ she?’ said Belle impatiently. ‘What’s been happening?’

‘Long story,’ said Emma. ‘It’s… Belle from another realm. She tried to kill Killian.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Hook destroyed her family,’ said Rumple heavily. ‘But she went after the wrong person. Grief’s like a cancer; she went after the symptoms, not the cause.’

Rumple took hold of Mrs Weaver wrist of the hand still holding his pistol.

‘Captain Hook didn’t kill your husband… I did. His pain, your pain, my wife’s pain, this whole entire curse and every that followed is because of me. Because I failed as a father.’

_And will fail again…_

He raised her arm so the gun was pointing into his chest.

‘Be the hero.’ The magic blocking cuff appeared on his wrist rendering him powerless and mortal. ‘Kill the Beast.’

‘ _What_?’ said Mrs Weaver, aghast that Mr Gold would suggest such a thing as the other made similar movements to shock. ‘No!’

‘Don’t worry. Going after Hook was an assassination. This is an execution. You’ll be ridding the world of a great evil.’

‘But your son – your wife – Belle –’

‘– doesn’t want me,’ said Rumple, his throat constricted, the confession as difficult to force out as it was to swallow. ‘So you may as well just pull the trigger, Mrs Weaver, because… I’m useless to her, you see?’

‘What?’ said Belle, shocked and a little hurt by this. For one moment it seemed as if she had forgotten that she was the one who had walked out on him (again) or that she had told him, after everything he had done to save her and the baby, she would rather stay trapped under the sleeping curse than be woken by anyone other than her father. ‘Rumple, that’s not true.’  
  
‘Isn’t it?’ Rumple challenged. ‘I mean, you said as much yourself. Or did I misunderstand when you walked through the portal out of my life with our son for good? And that bag of yours is really just full of clothes you’re taking down to the charity shop? You don’t need me anymore. And I can’t destroy your lives if I’m dead.’

‘For once I agree with the Crocodile,’ said Hook. ‘Now he can finally pay for everything he’s done.’

‘And your hands and soul stay clean,’ Rumple added to Belle, remembering her telling him that he wasn’t worth darkening her soul to save him from Gaston and her eagerness to get away from him before he made do something else she’d regret. He turned back to Mrs Weaver. ‘Kill the monster.’

Rumple closed his eyes and waited for the final blow. Everyone in the diner waited. Then Mrs Weaver reached up and cupped Rumple’s face, the tender touch causing him to open his eyes in surprise and look back into blue ones.

‘You’re not the monster they all think,’ she said. She glared at the Heroes, including Mrs Gold who was just standing there. ‘And even if he was, I’d still love him.’

‘Who cares!’ Hook spat. ‘The Crocodile deserves to die! If you were a _real_ hero you’d do the right thing and put this beast out of his misery!’

Rumple really thought for a moment Hook had just signed his own death warrant after he had only just managed to talked her down.

Mrs Weaver turned very slowly to gaze steadily at her tormentor and would-be victim.

‘If that is some sort of _dig_ , you misjudge me. I have no use for ‘ _heroes_ ’ in the context you seem to be putting me in. Which makes me wonder if any of you actually know what being a hero is?’

She looked from Hook to Snow White, to Prince Charming, to Emma the Saviour and finally to wannabe hero Belle.

‘I don’t do things for show or to be popular... I do what needs to be done. I don’t give a _tiny rat’s arse_ if you or anybody else likes it or finds it _heroic_. Heroics for show are like stale, dried out, month old wedding cake; it may still look good, but it tastes like crap! Well, you lot can think what you want about me. I’m not changing. Not you. Not for anyone. I gave up trying to be part of the ‘in crowd’ years ago. _This_ is me. I like me. My husband likes me. My parents like me. My friends like me, for the same reason I like them. Because I’m the real deal. What you see is what you get. And if you don’t like it, fine... I _know_ my own self-worth, as well as the value of others, and I don’t need someone else to validate me. Least of all a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites.’

Rumple was momentarily dumbstruck as he surveyed this magnificent woman, reminding him of the strong, determined Belle he _thought_ he knew all those years ago. His heart surged, recognising he was in the presence of someone with true strength and caring, who truly believed in herself and didn’t need to be a hero or hide or change who she was to be accepted by others. She was almost reminiscent of the Disney Belle whose film Rumple liked to watch on lonely Belle-less nights. That Belle, too, didn’t give in to social conformity, just yearned for adventure and the company of people who understood her and liked her for who she is. He would also trade Disney Maurice for his real father-in-law in an instant. No matter how much he felt unworthy, no matter how much he didn’t want to trust this Belle because the Belle he had known before had proven herself untrustworthy, he could almost be persuaded by her genuine belief that he was not a monster.

Mrs Weaver handed over the pistol and Rumple pocketed it.

Emma pocketed her own gun and produced a pair of handcuffs. ‘Belle Weaver, you’re under arrest for attempted murder.’

‘You arrest her, Sheriff,’ said Rumple warningly, ‘you better arrest me and everyone in this diner too, starting with yourself. You may not have been complicit in the murder of Merlin by your boyfriend, but covering it up? That’s intent. I haven't forgotten you tried to assassinate my wife. And conspiring to commit murder is _definitely_ a crime, even if it is Zelena.’

‘That was different –’

‘Why? Because you were cursed? Because you’re a hero, so your actions are justified? Emma Swan the bail bonds person would’ve known that a crime is a crime. She was caring and compassionate towards everyone, hero or villain, even to someone you had never met. You’ve become so amerced in fairytales you can’t even see your own hypocrisy. You’re not Emma Swan. Not anymore. You’re not even the Saviour...’

‘You’re right,’ said Emma. For a moment Rumple thought he had got through to her and she was seeing what she had allowed herself to become – but then, ‘You’re under arrest too. Like you said, you’re the cause of all of this. The curse, the Evil Queen, why the Darkness still exists –’

‘Well, I can’t take all the credit for that, Miss Swan. After all, you’re the one who multiplied the Darkness so that it can never be destroyed instead of finishing the job in Camelot –’

‘Oh my God.’ Mrs Weaver suddenly grabbed her belly and began to groan, clearly in great discomfort.

‘What is it? What's wrong?’ said Rumple anxiously, holding her steady.

‘Aah!’ Mrs Weaver cried in pain, gripping Rumple's arms and looked at him in fear. ‘Baby… It’s coming!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle Weaver’s speech on heroism and refusing to change for others is borrowed from ‘Shattered Souls, Mended Hearts’ by NicoleMuenchSeidel, mixed with Del Griffith’s ‘I like me’ speech from ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles’.
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11081579/3/Shattered-Souls-Mended-Hearts


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: Papa, do you think I'm odd?
> 
> MAURICE: My daughter? Odd? Where did you get an idea like that?
> 
> BELLE: I don't know. People talk. 
> 
> MAURICE: Oh. People. This village may be small, small-minded even, but small also means safe. Now your mother... she was so different, so daring, so ahead of her time that people mocked her until the day they found themselves imitating her. 
> 
> BELLE: What did you love most about her? 
> 
> MAURICE: Your mother was... fearless. Fearless.

With the magic cuff still on his wrist Rumple couldn’t transport them by magic and the hospital wasn’t exactly close. He gave Emma a hard look. ‘She needs the hospital. Or are you really going to make her give birth to this baby in jail?’

For the first time in forever, he saw a flicker of the real Emma in her green eyes. She nodded, putting the handcuff back in their holster and pulling out her car keys. ‘All right. My car’s right outside, I can –’

Rumple escorted Mrs Weaver out of the diner, snatching the keys right out of Emma’s hand as he went. He didn’t so much as glance at Belle. She hadn’t cheered on Mrs Weaver to shoot him as Hook had done, but she hadn’t made a single sound or move of protest either. She had looked as though Rumple had slapped her when he accused her of not caring if he died because she considered him surplus to requirements, but as Rumple had told her, _‘Wanting me to live isn’t the same as wanting to be with me.’_

‘Hey! Gold!’ Emma shouted indignantly at this blatant theft of the Sheriff of Storybrooke and the Saviour to boot.

But Rumple had already helped Mrs Weaver in the passenger seat, put on her seatbelt and was getting behind the wheel by the time Emma reached the top of the steps.

‘You can’t steal my car!’

‘I’m not!’ Rumple yelled back, starting up the engine. ‘I’m stealing a stolen car.’

Rumple fired up the scarlet cherry light sitting on the roof and the siren, slammed his foot on the accelerator and drove Mrs Weaver to the hospital in the Saviour’s yellow bug. And to hell with the consequences!

Rumple raced through the streets, a yellow blur speeding towards Storybrooke General Hospital, jumping red lights and weaving in and out of cars. Mrs Weaver was breathing deeply beside him, her hands clasped on either side of her stomach, glancing around the interior of Emma’s car. She and her Rumple always planned to go to the Land Without Magic, but they never did. Even through her fear and pain, she was still curious and fascinated by this horseless carriage – or bug? Or perhaps these metal boxes _were_ this world’s horses.

‘So, the wheel acts as the reins,’ she said, pointing at the steering wheel, ‘and the pedals at your feet control the steed’s speed.’

‘Exactly,’ said Rumple encouragingly, hoping to distract her from the pain. He cursed as the gear slipped and grinded the stick firmly back into position. ‘Though I think this one’s the loyal type and answers only to Miss Swan.’

‘Well it _is_ stolen. It must have taken her a while to tame it.’

Mrs Weaver gasped as a contraction twisted her insides.

‘We’re nearly there,’ said Rumple, pushing his already flat foot harder on the pedal, urging it to go faster. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘You don’t know that, okay. You can’t say that.’ Mrs Weaver whimpered. ‘I did this. I’ve been stressing so much about getting revenge on Hook; I’ve neglected my own child. I interfered in a story that wasn’t mine. Now I’m paying the price for being such a bad mother – I’m going to lose my baby!’

‘No!’ said Rumple firmly, looking around at her, and barely registering the oncoming cars veering out of the way, honking their horns and yelling expletives at them. ‘I will _not_ let that happen! Do you understand? If it means I have to give up my life to ensure your son is safe and health, then so be it!’

He glared at her. Belle Weaver was a good person and did not deserve any of this. Hook had interfered in her story by killing her husband, which had not only destroyed her home world but had set Mrs Weaver on the path of revenge. Mrs Weaver in turn had crossed over into their realm intending to return the favour. She may have only caused him a flesh wound but it was still a violation. And now she was going into premature labour. Or, worse, she was having a miscarriage.

Mrs Weaver gulped back her tears. Then she said in a timid voice, ‘Please don’t leave me…’

Rumple’s face softened at the sight of Mrs Weaver looking so miserable and scared. He put a hand on her arm, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘I am not going anywhere,’ he told her softly. ‘I promise.’

*

Rumple pulled up outside the emergency room entrance of the hospital and got out of the yellow bug. He ran around to the other side of the car and helped Mrs Weaver out of the passenger side.

A nurse was already approaching them with a wheelchair. Even at a distance Rumple recognised the stony, unsmiling face and tightly rolled horn-like hairstyle of the severe Nurse Ratched.

‘NO!’ Rumple bellowed, pointing a threatening finger at Nurse Ratched who stopped dead. This woman had locked up Belle in the asylum, poked and prodded her with needles and her negligence had allowed her to be brainwashed by Regina and walk out the hospital believing she was a brazen scantily clad barfly named Lacey. No way in seven hells was he letting this sadist nurse come near Mrs Weaver and her baby with a ten foot pole. ‘Stay away from her,’ he growled threateningly.

‘Mr Gold, I –’ Nurse Ratched began.

‘I could always turn you into a spider,’ Rumple suggested, hoping the fearsome aura of Rumplegoldskin would distract her from the magic blocking cuff still on his wrist. ‘It’s been an age since I’ve crushed a good invertebrate under my heel.’

Nurse Ratched took a terrified step back from him, now using the wheelchair as a shield.

A second nurse arrived with a wheelchair, stopping next to them.

‘What’s happening here?’ asked Nurse Theodora “Tea” Potts.

‘I-I think I’m having contractions,’ Mrs Weaver panted as the motherly Nurse Potts helped her into the wheelchair.

‘When did they start, Poppet?’

‘Um, about three minutes ago.’

‘Try to relax. We’re gonna take you to the M.C.U to get it looked at.’

Nurse Potts looked over her shoulder at Rumple as he followed alongside them.

‘Are you with her, Mr Gold?’

‘Yeah,’ said Mrs Weaver at the same time Rumple said, ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Okay, follow me.’

Mrs Weaver was changed into a yellow hospital gown and settled into a bed. A monitor beeped and a different nurse was attempting to put a blood pressure cuff on her.

‘What are you doing?’ Mrs Weaver asked nervously. ‘What, what’s going on?’

Rumple’s heart ached for her. She looked almost as lost and frightened and upset as Belle had been when she had lost her memories, thrust into the unknown, surrounded by all these strangers and all this complex equipment making unusual noises.

‘Hold on. Dr Whale will be with you in just a moment,’ said the second nurse.

‘I need to know what's going on,’ Mrs Weaver insisted. ‘Is something wrong?’

Rumple stuck his head out of the OB Triage. The lower half of his body remained firmly in the room, bound by his promise not to leave Mrs Weaver, while his head and torso was leaning into the corridor outside, looking left and right, catching a female doctor with a frog necklace and lime green pager on her hip walking past.

‘Excuse me. Excuse me.’

The doctor stopped and looked round. ‘Yes?’

‘Are you a doctor?’ Rumple asked despite the white lab coat and name tag.

She nodded. ‘Yes. I’m Dr. Lily Pond. OB-GYN.’

‘Can we please get your help in here?’

Rumple and Dr. Pond re-entered the OB Triage. The monitor was beeping rapidly in response to Mrs Weaver’s racing heart. Dr. Pond read Mrs Weaver’s chart.

‘Mrs Weaver? Belle, how are you feeling?’

‘Uncomfortable,’ Mrs Weaver moaned. ‘What, wh-what’s happening?’

Dr Pond examined her swollen stomach. ‘What’s happening is that Mother Nature’s gotten a little ahead of herself. Are you ready to have your baby?’

Mrs Weaver’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘I-I’m sorry. What?!’

‘You’re at thirty six weeks, three centimeters dilated and about eighty percent effaced, which means, if you want, you can have your baby tonight.’

‘If she _wants_ to?’ Rumple repeated.

‘So what, you mean – you mean you can stop it then?’ Mrs Weaver wanted to clarify.

‘Maybe,’ said Dr Pond. ‘However, to do that would require a number of drugs.’

‘Drugs? I mean w-will that hurt the baby?’

‘No,’ Dr Pond assured her kindly. ‘They’re perfectly safe. I just don’t want to stick you with needles if I don’t have to. So it’s up to you.’

‘I’m…’ Mrs Weaver looked to Rumple as though asking for help. Rumple took hold of her hand, silently letting her know that he supported whatever she decided to do. She swallowed, then, looking slightly ashamed of herself, she shook her head. ‘I’m not ready.’

‘Okay,’ Dr Pond nodded, not at all judgmental. She addressed Nurse Potts, ‘Let’s get her started on the Nifedipine drip –’

Suddenly the CTG emitted a flatline tone. Rumple stared at the horizontal line on the monitor in horror. He still had nightmares about that noise after Zelena had made him go into cardiac arrest in New York. _No… this wasn’t happening_. He looked to Mrs Weaver whose face had drained of colour, her own ECG spiking.

‘Wh-what, what is it?’ said Mrs Weaver, alarmed by the noise. She may never have seen a cardiotocography before but even she could tell that the piercing sound and the lack of spiky lines going across the screen wasn’t good.

‘Tea, let’s do an ultrasound,’ said Dr Pond urgently. ‘I wanna get a picture of what’s going on in there,’ she said to Mrs Weaver. ‘Ah, it-it could just mean the baby's out of position.’

‘Wh-wh-what are you – what are you saying?! W-what, what’s happening to my baby?!’ Mrs Weaver was crying as she clutched her stomach, desperately. ‘Is my baby okay? Is Ellie okay?!’

Rumple stared at Mrs Weaver with his eyes wide open – _Ellie? Mrs Weaver was having a_ girl _?_ – as Dr Pond took the ultrasound detector and put some gel on and moved it along on Mrs Weaver baby.

Then a fuzzy grey picture of a crouched human child appeared on the screen and the monitor returned to its rhythmic beeping.

‘See?’ Dr Lily happily, looking relieved. ‘There she is. Everything is just fine.’ She pointed at the picture of the shifting baby. ‘Your girl just likes to move around.’

Mrs Weaver and Dr Lily both chuckled as Rumple stood there, still a bit confused at the revelation that she was going to have a daughter when he and Belle were expecting a son, but enormously relieved her baby was fine, looking in wonder at the image on the screen as it gave him a little wave with its tiny hand.

‘140 B.P.M, perfectly normal. I have a feeling that Ellie is gonna be a handful.’

Mrs Weaver laughed wetly.

‘Now let’s see if we can slow this down.’

Mrs Weaver nodded.

‘Well done getting her here so fast.’ Dr Pond patted Rumple on the back. ‘You did great, Mummy,’ she added to Mrs Weaver as she left, Nurse Potts preparing the Nifedipine drip.

Mrs Weaver smiled gratefully at Rumple, who was still holding her hand.

There was a disturbance outside in the corridor and Rumple heard a man’s anxious voice speaking to Dr Pond. ‘Oh, excuse me, please, I-I’m looking for my daughter.’

‘Is she a patient here?’

‘No – well, yes, I suppose – she was brought here today.’

‘Was she in accident and emergency?’

‘I… I don’t know, she’s pregnant! Her name’s Belle Weaver.’

‘Oh, she’s just through there. Mother and baby are absolutely fine.’

The door opened and the owner of the worried voice came in. But it wasn’t Sir Maurice of Avonlea, or Moe French the florist as he was known in Storybrooke. It was a kind faced old man with wild-looking grey hair, a beard and blue eyes – Belle’s eyes.

‘Belle…’ the old man croaked with relief. He hurried past Rumple as if he hadn’t seen him and gathered Mrs Weaver up in his arms. ‘Oh, my darling girl! I’ve been so worried!’

‘I’m fine, Papa,’ Mrs Weaver assured him, returning the embrace. ‘I promise.’

Mrs Weaver’s father pulled back to peer anxiously into her face. ‘Belle, please tell me you didn’t go through with it. That you didn’t –’

Mrs Weaver smiled, taking her father’s hands, shaking her head. ‘No. Mr Gold talked some sense into me. He was also the one who brought me here. Without him I might have lost the baby.’

‘Thank you…’ breathed Mrs Weaver’s father, turning an indebted face to Rumple. ‘Thank you, Mr –’

His eyes widened when he saw Rumple and rose to his feet, looking at him as Mrs Weaver had done, as if he had seen a ghost of a departed loved one. His eyes filled rapidly with tears as he clapped a hand to his mouth.

‘Son…’ he whispered, gazing at Rumple in a way that neither his father nor his real father-in-law had ever looked at him before. ‘Oh, son.’

Before Rumple could open his mouth to protest or even ask who this man was, Mrs Weaver’s father had closed to gap and embraced Rumplestiltskin, clutching him as though he was his firstborn son. Rumple stood stiffly in Mrs Weaver’s father’s arms, much like he had been when Belle had first hugged him after sparing Robin Hood’s life.

‘No, Father! _That’s_ Mr Gold!’ said Mrs Weaver hastily before things got too awkward.

Her father immediately released Rumple and clumsily dusted down his Armani suit. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you. I apologise.’

‘No, no, you were… you were quite lovely actually,’ said Rumple nervously.

Mrs Weaver’s father beamed at him. Then he blinked in confusion as the man who resembled his dead son-in-law continued to stare at him. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rumple. ‘When you said you were Mrs Weaver’s father… is that “step” or “adoptive”?’

‘As in biological. Sir Maurice François of Avonlea, at your service. Do you not have a Maurice in this world?’

‘No, we do. It’s just the man I know to be Sir Maurice looks… different.’

The man tilted his head to one side. ‘In what way?’

‘In _every_ way – he’s a completely different man.’

Rumple showed him his wedding photo in his wallet. Moe French was partially excluded but still visible. Mrs Weaver’s father marvelled at the photograph.

‘Remarkable,’ he said. ‘Instant portrait. But I know who he is.’

‘You do? Who is he?’

Mrs Weaver’s father looked grim. ‘He is my brother. Jacques François… I cannot vouch our story is the same here, but in my world, Lady Colette Bellerose of Villeneuve and I were arranged to be married. The irony of it is we had already met and had been corresponding for months. But Jacques had his eyes on her too. We had both dishonoured him. Colette had turned down his advances. And I refused to duel him, which he took to mean people would think him unworthy of offending my honour. He attempted to curse Colette with the Curse of the Poisoned Heart. I would not have been able to touch her without hurting or killing her, or myself.

‘I suspect in this world, Jacques succeeded and my other self left to protect her. Colette’s parents had never seen a portrait of me so my other parents will have presented Jacques as me. He and Colette would have married for the sake of their kingdoms and Jacques would have raised my daughter as his own.

‘What’s he like?’

‘He hates me,’ Rumple told him. ‘He once tried to erase all my Belle’s memories just to stop her from loving me. And he refused to wake her from her sleeping curse until I was gone for good.’

Mrs Weaver’s father shook his head. ‘I wish I could say I’m surprised.’

‘Was that the reason he wouldn’t even attempt to wake her? Because he’s not her father? And could never love her as one? So the kiss wouldn’t have worked?’

‘It’s possible. But, of course, this is pure speculation.’

There was a knock at the door and Nurse Potts stuck her head in. ‘Excuse me, Mr Gold. Sorry to interrupt but Sheriff Swan is looking for you.’

‘Come to slap on the handcuffs?’ Rumple sighed. ‘Very well. Thank you, Nurse Potts.’ He turned to Mrs Weaver and the _real_ Maurice, who he would gladly swap his own father-in-law for right here right now. ‘Please excuse me. I better head off, Miss Swan.’

‘You’ll come back, won’t you?’ asked Mrs Weaver impulsively.

Rumple nodded reassuringly. ‘Of course I will,’ he assured her.

Mrs Weaver smiled, looking relieved. Rumple followed Nurse Potts out. Looking back he saw Maurice rejoin his daughter who was showing him something in her hand, putting on a pair of glasses so that could see. He smiled at the little family snuggled together on the bed, and then went to find the Saviour.

Emma was marching towards him up the hospital corridor. Rumple rolled his eyes and, saving them both time, held his arms out in front of him, waiting for her to snap on the handcuffs. Emma stopped in front of him but made no move to arrest him or even to berate him for stealing her car.

‘Is she all right?’ Emma asked.

Rumple fixed Emma with a cold stare, lowering his hands. ‘Yes, Miss Swan. She’s fine.’

‘And the baby?’

‘The doctors managed to slow things down. Ellie is strong and completely healthy.’

Emma frowned. ‘Who’s Ellie?’

‘Mrs Weaver’s daughter.’

‘Daughter? But… Belle said she was having a son –’

‘ _We_ ,’ Rumple snapped. Belle was not the sole parent in their sons’ life. He was the father not a second class citizen. He had the same rights as Belle did. This was his child too. ‘It takes two to make a baby, as you very well know. I must confess I was surprised too, but then I realised it makes sense; Mr and Mrs Weaver didn’t exactly conceive at the same point in time as Belle and I –’

‘All right. I get the point,’ said Emma, holding up a hand to make him stop.

‘Are you here to arrest us?’

‘She’s definitely given up her thirst for revenge?’ Emma asked warily.

Even after what she had seen in the dreamcatcher she was still defending Hook. Turning a blind eye to his past transgressions. And people used to accuse Belle of closing her eyes to his past dark deeds. Well, Emma Swan had made her grave her wedding bed, now she must lie in it.

‘Yes,’ said Rumple. ‘She has something much more important to occupy her time. And what about me? I did stop your leather-clad corpse being murdered and I assure you your car has not a scratch on it. Am I to be eating prison slop tonight for doing the right thing?’

‘No,’ said Emma grudgingly. ‘But you’re paying for my speeding ticket.’

Rumple slapped her car keys back into her hand. ‘Done.’

‘And I’ll still be filing a restraining order against her. She not allowed to come anywhere near Killian. If she calls his cell, comes to my house or his ship –’

‘I understand what a restraining order is. And yes, if your pirate promises the same. He stays away from her and Mrs Weaver stays away from him.’

‘Fair enough.’ She cast him a suspicious look. ‘Do you have plans to kill him?’

‘No immediate plans. Just as long as he has no plans to kill me or to hurt or use my loved ones against me, he will live. Though if anyone else has a desire to end his worthless existence; I will not assist them, but I will not stop them either. Do not ask any more of me than that.’

‘Who’d want to kill him?’

‘Are you serious?’ said Rumple incredulously, not least because of the events of today. ‘Hook has been alive for as long as I have and spent the majority of it as a ruthless pirate. And Mr Hyde has brought over an entire population of people who’ve paused their stories. If a Camelotian could still harbour a grudge against Regina for burning his entire village to the ground and killing his parents, I’d be surprised if there aren’t any number of widows, sailors and victims looking for justice.’

‘They’ve changed. Killian’s changed.’

_Changed sides, you mean._

‘It doesn’t matter how much we’ve changed, there will still be this nasty, little piece of us we can’t get rid of _._ And we shouldn’t because it’s that piece that shows us how far we’ve come and how much we have to lose. The Evil Queen, the Dark One, the Wicked Witch, the Pirate – you can’t just cut it out and toss it away, you can’t pretend it never happened, you can’t just close your eyes and pretend it was all a bad dream, you can’t treat it like a separate entity or your own personal devil on your shoulder that made you do all those things. The paths we walk on have demons beneath. And theirs, mine, yours – even your parents – have been waiting for a very long time.’

‘I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to turn us against each other.’

‘Oh you don’t need me or Regina’s counterpart to do that. All she has to sit back and watch you tear yourselves apart. Your parents stealing Maleficent’s baby a filling her with your darkness was just the tip of the iceberg. You better be prepared for some nasty surprises.’

‘Words,’ said Emma, trying to sound more confident than she looked. ‘And, thankfully, your word doesn’t mean much these days.’

_Except when in meant ensuring Hook’s continued existence._

‘Really?’ said Rumple. ‘Monte Cristo.’

‘Monte Cristo, what?’

‘Let’s hope Regina tells you before you find out another way. Just know that had I not sent him to the Land of Untold Stories, you would never have been born, Emma. The closet has been opened – here come the skeletons!’

Rumple turned and walked away. But he hadn’t got far before Emma called after him, ‘All the more reason you should stay away from Belle Weaver.’

Rumple stopped dead.

‘You’ve already destroyed one Belle’s life. Don’t destroy another.’

‘You don’t know her,’ said Rumple quietly, not looking back.

‘Neither do you. She’s not Belle.’

‘I’m perfectly clear who she is and who I’m married to, thank you, Miss Swan.’

‘I’m not sure you are. You would never have done what you did today for a complete stranger. And the way _she_ talks about you, it’s as if she thinks she’s got her husband back.’

‘She’s not stupid. Why do you think we call each other Mr Gold and Mrs Weaver?’

‘To remind yourselves that what you had it _gone_ …’

Rumple felt he had been punched in the stomach. Is that what Belle had said to her? Was the real reason the kiss didn’t work because she didn’t want to be with him? That what they had, what they shared… was _gone_?

He felt Emma pass the dreamcatcher back into his hand.

‘You ruined what you had with Neal and Belle. And, whatever this is, Mrs Weaver’s not your second chance. She’ll see you for who you really are sooner or later. Why don’t you save both yourselves the pain? You did the right thing today. That doesn’t mean you’ll do the same tomorrow. You’re a disease, infecting the lives of everyone you come into contact with. When are you gonna learn? You’re not one of the good guys, Rumplestiltskin. You just destroy everything that’s good.’

Emma left, leaving Rumple standing alone, despite being surrounded by passing doctors, patients and visitors.

‘Cheer up, dear,’ said Nurse Potts, who’d stopped on her way to her next patient to listen to their conversation. ‘It’ll turn out all right in the end. You’ll see.’

But Rumple wasn’t much consoled.

*

Mrs Weaver was looking fondly at a picture from her ultrasound when he returned, smiling indulgently at her baby. _Horseless carriages, instant portraits, and the ability to tell the sex of your baby without the aid of a gypsy necklace – this world had its perks_.

Rumple knocked on the door. When she looked up and saw him, he smiled tentatively. Mrs Weaver’s smile widened, looking really happy to see him.

‘You came back,’ she said.

‘I promised I would.’ Rumple stepped into the room and approached her bedside. ‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay.’ He looked around and saw that her father had left. ‘Where’s Maurice?’

‘He went back to Granny’s Diner to enquire about rooms.’ She looked nervous as she asked, ‘Am I going to jail?’

Rumple shook her head. ‘No. But you’re to stay away from Hook.’

‘Gladly.’

‘Oh yeah, um…’ He reached into his pocket and held out Mr Weaver’s wedding ring.

Mrs Weaver took it back gratefully. ‘Thank you,’ she said, talking about more than just the return of her true love’s ring. ‘You saved both our lives.’

‘Well, it was my fault in the first place –’ Rumple mumbled.

‘No, no.’ Mrs Weaver shook her head. ‘I would’ve lost myself and my baby if it wasn’t for you.’ She played with her Rumple’s ring, twirling it between her fingers. ‘That was a noble thing you did. He doesn’t deserve it.’

‘I know,’ Rumple agreed. ‘If it were anyone else pointing a gun at Hook’s head I wouldn’t care. But… I couldn’t let you fill your heart with darkness. He’s not worth damaging your soul. I lost my Belle, I couldn’t lose another.’

‘Your Belle’s still here.’

‘It’s too late now,’ he said sadly. ‘My kiss failed to work in the Underworld. And then when it was working in the dream world she stopped it, preferring to stay in a fiery red doorless room than, to use her words, be in my debt. Whatever love she had for me is gone. The only thing she sees is a beast. It’s over.’

‘It’s never too late. You’re a good man, Rumple. Your heart is pure.’

‘Belle doesn’t think so. Not anymore.’

‘Well, I’m saying it, because it’s true.’

‘Thank you…’ He met her gaze, and then tried to change the subject. ‘I’m proud of you, Mrs Weaver.’

‘Why?’ said Mrs Weaver dully. ‘Hook got away with it.’

Rumple shook his head, smiling faintly. ‘No he didn’t. Because he hasn’t got you. He hasn’t got your baby. And he never ever will. Incorruptible by evil, that’s what you are.’

Mrs Weaver smiled, deeply flattered, blushing a little.

‘Ellie’s a lovely name.’

‘I don’t know why I said it,’ Mrs Weaver admitted. ‘It’s like, I don’t know. I knew it or something. It just came to me.’

‘Good choice. “Shining light”.’

‘Yes, she is.’ She offered a copy of her sonogram to Rumple. ‘I want you to have it.’

Rumple’s eyes widened. He shook his head, taking a step back as though it was her actual baby she was offering him. ‘No. I… I couldn’t.’

‘I want you to… _He’d_ want you to.’ She briefly flicked her eyes upwards, believing Mr Weaver was watching them from heaven.

‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘You didn’t have to do what you did either.’

Mrs Weaver and Rumple smiled at each other. He took the sonogram copy, running a finger along its head.

‘You’ll find your way back to each other,’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘You and Belle.’

The smile faded as Rumple pocketed the sonogram. ‘I’m not so sure,’ he said gloomily.

‘I have faith in you, Mr Gold.’

Again Rumple changed the subject rather than indulge her.

‘So what will you do now? I can use the Apprentice wand to send you anywhere you want to go... as soon as I get this cuff off.’

‘No home to go back to. Baelfire has his own family now… somewhere.’

‘So you’ll be staying in Storybrooke, then. Granny’s Bed and Breakfast has some lovely rooms of the forest or the square.’

Mrs Weaver grimaced. ‘I doubt she’ll let out to a would-be murderer. I hear there’s a city ordinance that she’s not allowed to rent out to felons.’

‘Then she would have to evict everyone in her establishment. Granny’s a formidable woman on the outside, but I know she wouldn’t turn away a pregnant widow.’

‘I’m not exactly carrying the Saviour of Mankind.’

‘And I’ve just signed over the town to Mr Hyde so I could save my wife.’

‘And I need to find a job. I don’t suppose… you’re hiring in your shop? You look like you might be shorthanded.’

Rumple chuckled. ‘I’ve run the shop for many years on my own. I’m sure I can manage just fine.’

‘How would you feel about… taking on an apprentice?’

‘Well, it would be nice to have someone who’s committed,’ said Rumple thinking of how Henry had played the loving grandson card, wanting to bond with his grandpa after his father’s death, and had only become his apprentice to spy on him for Regina, just to find the Author to force a happy ending for herself. ‘Though I’m not sure it solves your accommodation conundrum. The back room living quarters are extremely restricted. But I can vouch the bed is very comfortable.’

‘Could I stay with you?’

Rumple stared at her. She wanted to live with him?

 _She’ll see you for who you really are sooner or later. Why don’t you save both yourselves the pain? …You’re a disease, infecting the lives of everyone you come into contact with… You just destroy everything that’s good_.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said sadly. ‘Think of your reputation.’

‘I don’t care what people think of me. I never have.’

‘You would regret it.’

‘Can I not decide that form myself?’

‘There’s a reason Belle and I are no longer together.’

‘I’m not her.’

If she wouldn’t listen, then he would have to show her. Rumple held up the dreamcatcher, removed a strand of his own hair and the golden magic reached out and weaved it into the web, which swirled and glowed.

‘Take this. You should know what you’re getting yourself and Ellie into. Goodbye, Mrs Weaver.’

Rumple left, not wanting to see the moment when yet another Belle lost faith in him and looked at him with hate. Mrs Weaver looked into the dreamcatcher and witnessed Rumple and Belle’s complete history. When she’d finished, her cheeks are soaked with tears and her heart was broken.

*

Rumple sat alone on the edge of his bed later that night, still fully dressed, playing with his moonstone wedding ring. Mrs Weaver’s sonogram of Ellie was resting against the wedding photo of Rumple and Belle on his bedside table. His dagger lay beside it, having used it to remove the cuff.

The empty house creaked and the pipes gurgled as Emma’s words continued to echo on repeat in his head. And after Mrs Weaver had seen all that he had done in the dreamcatcher she would see what everyone else saw in him.

There’s a knock at the door. Who could be calling at this hour? Rumple forced himself to his feet, walked down the stairs and opened the front door.

It was Belle Weaver, wrapped in a travelling cloak and clutching her drawstring purse.

What was she doing here?

‘Sorry it’s so late,’ she said. ‘Got any spare rooms available?’

Rumple just stood there, stunned. She was here. She came back. Even after all she had seen she still wanted to know him. Then he nodded numbly. ‘Yeah… a whole house full.’

‘I won’t have to sleep in the stable?’

Rumple chuckled. ‘No. I assure you I have central heating.’

He stood aside eagerly to let her in. But Mrs Weaver made no move to enter the salmon pink house.

‘I do have one condition to my staying here,’ said Mrs Weaver seriously.

‘You’re not my maid,’ said Rumple quickly, forestalling what she was going to say. ‘My home is your home, you can go anywhere you want – you can leave whenever you want. You’re not my prisoner. Don’t worry.’

Mrs Weaver raised her eyebrows. ‘I wasn’t, but good to know. That’s not what I meant.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not your Belle. And you’re not my Rumple. If you want to take me in, to work together? Great. But as me. As you. As ourselves. We’re not bargain basement stand-in’s. And I can assure that I have no desire to compete with a ghost.’

Rumple shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

Mrs Weaver nodded and held out her hand. ‘Deal.’

Rumple smiled. ‘Deal.’

They shook hands – ring hands.

‘I should warn you; I come with baggage.’ She rubbed her baby bump.

Rumple chuckled again. ‘Always room for a little more. And for a little one.’ He waved his arm, inviting her in out of the cold. ‘Come. Let me show you to your room.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had Belle been raised by Maurice François - a loving father who supported her dreams - I do believe she would have been a different person.
> 
> François = Frenchman
> 
> Bellerose = Beautiful rose
> 
> Villeneuve = from Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, the author of Beauty and the Beast.
> 
> Jacques = French version of the name Jacob meaning ‘supplanter’ – someone who takes the rightful place of someone else, as through force, scheming, strategy, or the like.


	4. Chapter 4

_If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation: old things have passed away – behold, all things have become new –_ 2 Corinthians 5:17

Mrs Weaver had to go to three shops but she had managed to find some dresses that could envelop her. She stood in Mr Gold’s shop – newly renamed _Gold & Weaver Pawnbrokers & Antiquities Dealers_ – dressed in navy blue bouclé maternity shift dress, entering new items into the inventory.

Her drawstring purse didn’t just carrying money. An undetectable extension charm had been placed upon it and out of it Mrs Weaver pulled all the relics she had managed to save from her world. Crowns, jewels, clothes, weapons, books, maps, ornaments, tea sets, goblets, the seven dwarves axes and diamonds, Red’s protective moon necklace – she had even managed to fit her Rumple’s enormous spinning wheel and stool in it.

Mr Gold had even given her father a job, tinkering in his workshop while he was out collecting the rent or on other business; tuning music boxes, repair broken watches and fixing faulty jewellery. Maurice was over at Marco’s woodworking shop today, helping the handyman and his grown-up son Pinocchio fix the cuckoo clock again.

She had just set the Arendellian–Northuldran sister–queens tiaras on stands alongside the crowns of Will and Anastasia; the White King and Queen of Wonderland, Queen Merida of Dunbroch and Queen Ariel of Atlantica when the shop bell tinkled. Looking up she saw Prince Charming enter the shop like a man wanting to start a fight.

‘Gold!’ he called, holding up a small coin in his head. ‘Get out here! I want a word!’

‘Good morning to you too, Mr Nolan,’ said Mrs Weaver calmly, making Charming aware that she was standing right in front of him.

‘Oh.’ Charming’s expression cleared, faintly embarrassed by his bull in a china shop entrance. ‘Mrs Weaver. What’re you doing here?’

‘I work here, Mr Nolan. Mr Gold just stepped out to get us breakfast from Granny’s. He’ll be back in a minute. You’re welcome to wait.’

‘Thank you,’ said Charming.

He looked around at the new inventory. The shop had undergone quite a transformation; every surface shone, the glass cabinets were gleaming, the shelves were polished so that they looked brand new and the windows were letting in so much dazzling sunlight that it chased away all the darkness and the whole place seemed to glow.

‘Wow. The place looks great.’ He spotted Wish-Merida’s sword, bow and quiver of arrows on a stand next to the complete sword of Excalibur forged by Wish-Merlin. ‘Isn’t that Merida’s bow?’

‘It was,’ said Mrs Weaver sadly.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Charming. He shook his head gravely. ‘I still can’t believe one death could cause such destruction.’

‘Believe it. An ordinary man – though Rumple was anything but – that’s the most important thing in creation. My whole world was different because he’s dead.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Charming again. ‘Know that Storybrooke is your home now. You need anything at all, you need only ask.’

‘Thank you, Mr Nolan. But it’s not _your_ apology I seek.’

Charming nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll tell Hook –’

‘No,’ said Mrs Weaver sharply. Just hearing his name set her teeth on edge. ‘If he is truly sorry, let _him_ come and tell me himself. Until he does, I hope never to encounter him. And when he does, I don’t want some mealy-mouthed apology given out of coercion or some self-absorbed need to make himself feel better. If and when he decides to apologise, it will be because he’s _genuinely_ sorry for the pain he’s caused me. And the pain his actions caused to others. Those are the only terms I will accept. I’m sorry if that sounds unreasonable, but I lost my husband and my entire world because of his vendetta against Mr Gold.’

Mrs Weaver wouldn’t accept Hook’s apology if his only motivation for doing so (apart from a desire not to lose face in front of Emma and the Heroes) was _his_ need to forgive _himself_ , and _his_ desire to be proud of _himself_.

‘No, that’s not unreasonable,’ said Charming. ‘You’ve suffered a lot. I won’t say a word to Hook. He knows what he did.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Shame I never met your husband. Your Rumplestiltskin sounds more reasonable than ours. Everything comes at a price with him. Careful you don’t ask for something as small as a cup of tea, you could owe him your entire house.’

‘I don’t have a home anymore,’ Mrs Weaver reminded him. ‘Here’s a crazy idea,’ she proposed coolly. ‘Have you tried asking nicely?’

Charming blinked. ‘What?’

‘You know, instead of treating him like a beast, have you ever tried talking to Mr Gold like a man. You know, with a bit of respect?’

‘Respect?’ Charming repeated.

‘As if he is a human being? As if he is actually family? You treat someone like a beast, that’s what you get.’

‘I… He…’

‘He gave Henry the necklace for his sleeping curse nightmares without a price. He gave you the dreamshade elixir without a price, just the hope that as family you would warrant him the same courtesy. He gave his life to save you all from his father. And what did you all do? How did you repay his sacrifice? You left him to the mercy of the Wicked Witch and only attempted to rescue him – _once_ – not out of a desire to save Henry’s grandfather but to protect Regina. You never even held a funeral for him. He’s only family when it suits you. Is it any wonder that Mr Gold doesn’t feel part of this family? That he believes you see this family connection as a convenience or loophole, rather than a bond? Do you have any idea how grateful he’d be; how far he’d go to protect you, if you showed him even an _ounce_ of common decency? You know how far he went to find his son, what he’d do to protect his wife. Family is the most important thing to Mr Gold. So, start acting like it.’

Charming looked a little abashed.

The shop bell jingled and Rumple himself entered carrying a bag of food from Granny’s. ‘Hello, Sheriff. Thought you would be on patrol right now.’

‘I will be.’ Charming glanced at Mrs Weaver, who eyeballed him before turning away to polishing an ornate mirror with a long handle and acting as though she wasn’t listening to a word of their conversation. ‘The Evil Queen came to see me. She gave me this.’ He put the coin the Evil Queen handed to him on the counter. ‘This was my father’s lucky coin. I need to know if his death was really an accident.’

‘What makes you think I know?’ said Rumple as he unpacked the bag of food.

‘Because you said so yesterday to Emma: “And what do you think your father will do if he ever finds the man who killed your grandfather”. How did you know that my father was murdered? And how did this coin end up here?’

‘How does anything end up in my shop?’

‘Either through a deal with you or it got swept up with one of the Dark Curses.’

‘And, naturally, you automatically assume I acquired it in a deal,’ said Rumple irritably, though not at all surprised. He was used to being everyone’s favourite scapegoat.

‘I don’t assume anything,’ said Charming. ‘I wasn’t there.’

Rumple’s eyes flicked up at him, taken aback. This was not the answer he had been expecting. No threats, no seeing the worst in him.

‘Please,’ said Charming sincerely. ‘How did my father’s coin really end up here?’

Rumple paused, trying to decide if this was some kind of deception to squeeze a freebie out of him. Finally he said, ‘I don’t know what happened to your father, only from what my inventory says. As for his coin, it got brought over with the curse.’ He picked up the golden coin. ‘The last time I saw this coin it was on your father’s wrist when he came to me for help locating your six year old, not quite yet corrupted, twin brother, Prince James, who had run away from his adoptive father King George.’

‘That was the trip he went on?’ Charming realised, his eyes distant as he flashback to the last conversation he had with his father. ‘He wasn’t going on a supply run; he was going to find my brother and bring him home. And he came to you for help?’

‘Indeed. I showed your father where your brother was and sent him on his way with a ticket to _Pleasure Island_ to find his son.’

‘What did you want in exchange?’

‘In exchange for the chance for a father to see his boy… to tell him he was sorry? One hair off his head. “Small things hold great power!”’ Rumple imitated his impish voice, accompanied by a flourishing hand gesture.

‘What for?’ said Charming curiously. ‘What could my father’s hair do?’

He knew his and Snow’s hair had created the True Love potion and that using one of Regina’s hairs a protection spell against her in the Enchanted Forest. What kind of potion or spell could the magic properties of his father’s make?

‘Absolutely nothing,’ said Rumple. ‘But the magic of the deal needed to be satisfied. I don’t just say “all magic comes with a price” because I love the sound of my own voice.’

Charming smiled. Rumplestiltskin had genuinely helped Charming’s father, not for personal gain or as part of his long game to cast the curse, but through a desire for one of the two fathers to be reunited with their sons. Now he was starting to see what Mrs Weaver saw and what Belle had once saw in him.

‘No, just to keep up appearances,’ he said lightly, and not in a mocking or scornful way as he would normally have done. ‘Heaven forbid the Dark One should come across as human.’

Rumple nearly smiled. ‘Robert paid up and I sent him on his way. But it became clear from our first meeting since you were an infant that your father never got the chance to tell his son everything he wanted to say.’

Charming saw the sadness in Rumple’s eyes and recognised the same regret that he never got to tell Neal everything he wanted to say after all those years of trying to find him.

‘Lucky for you…’ said Rumple speaking normally, ‘I’m a stickler for records. Here we are.’

Rumple produced an inventory card. He hesitated for a moment, the temptation to make a deal to ensure an IOU on the tip on his tongue, Charming remaining uncharacteristically silent, waiting, and then handed over the card. Charming took it and read:

_INV. ITEM 2027_

_DESCRIPTION: Antique round coin with  
a center hole, cast in tin. _

_CONDITION: Well worn_

_PROVENANCE: The coin was taken off  
the body of a dead man, a shepherd in  
the wreckage of a cart. The man had  
been stabbed, and was evidently dead  
before the cart went off the cliff._

‘My father… he’d been stabbed. He wasn’t killed in the accident. He wasn’t drunk. He kept his promise… That means his killer could still be out there.’

‘Careful, Sheriff Charming,’ Rumple warned him. ‘You have more important things to worry about right now than some decades-old crime.’

‘Isn’t this what a sheriff does?’

‘There’s a fine line between vengeance and justice. It’s never easy to lose someone you love. But it is easy to lose sight of what you have left. Your wife, your daughter and your son – they’re still here. And they really need you, as does this town. Do what you must to uncover the truth. Just don’t pull away from those around you.’

‘Being there for Neal… how could that not be more important? Of course that’s where I want to be.’

‘Then, good luck.’

‘Thank you.’ Charming was halfway towards the door when he stopped at looked back at Rumple, who was already heading back to his office. ‘Rumplestiltskin… I’m sorry.’

Rumple stopped as if he had hit an invisible wall. He spun slowly on the spot to stare dumbfounded at Charming. ‘What did you say?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Charming again. ‘The day you gave me the dreamshade elixir on the house, you said that now that we’re family and if you ever needed a favour from us we’d be more than receptive. We haven’t held up our end. All those times you needed our help, even when you didn’t ask for it, and we did nothing. Maybe if we had things wouldn’t have got this far. You need anything at all, anything, you just say the word.’

Rumple didn’t answer.

Charming smiled. ‘Well, if it comes to you. Good day.’

He turned and walked away pocketing the inventory card of his father’s lucky coin in the breast pocket of his jacket –

‘No, wait!’

The words burst from Rumple’s mouth. Charming stopped and looked back.

‘There is something.’ Rumple rubbed his hands nervously. ‘It’ll require very little effort on your part… And you can say no.’

‘Okay? What is it?’

Rumple pulled a cassette tape out of his suit pocket, turning it over and over in his hands. ‘You’re more likely to see Belle than I am… Would you please give this to her for me?’

Charming took it and examined the white label cassette tape front and back. ‘What is it, a mixtape?’

Rumple didn’t answer. ‘If you don’t mind?’

Charming nodded. ‘I’ll deliver this straight into her hand myself.’

‘Thank you.’ Rumple swallowed. ‘Charming… If anything harm comes to Belle or our baby, if anything happens to them…’

‘I know, you’ll kill all of us –’ Charming sighed, remembering his threat before leaving with Emma to find his son.

‘I’d be devastated,’ said Rumple, echoing Charming’s answer on that occasion. ‘This isn’t a threat. It’s a request. Belle and my son… are all I’ve got. If I lose them I will truly… truly become dust. Take care of them.’

‘I promise no harm will come to them,’ Charming assured him. ‘You have my word. I’ll keep her safe. After all, we are family.’

With a nod and a smile Charming left, leaving Rumple a little confused as to what had taken place in his shop today.

‘Was that a dream or did that just happen?’ said Rumple.

‘I’ve always found David the more seasonable of the Charmings,’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘After all, you were both shepherds. Both thrust into a position of power that was tantamount to a prison sentence. Both hotheads at times, but with a good heart. Both fathers who would do anything for their children, even if it meant never seeing them again…’

Rumple came over and leaned against the counter, a knowing smile on his face. ‘You wouldn’t have had anything to do with this? Would you, Mrs Weaver?’

‘Now, Mr Gold,’ said Mrs Weaver, looking up at him, a pained look on her face. ‘You know I’m forbidden to interfere in a story that isn’t mine…’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t give a little nudge and let the little grey cells do the rest.’

Rumple grinned, shaking his head.

*

Rumple finished the washing up after a delicious meal of spaghetti meatballs and went upstairs to check on Mrs Weaver. She was setting in the guest bedroom, sitting on her rose printed duvet, reading aloud to her baby bump.

Rumple always enjoyed listening to Belle read, loved how she could make the words lift off the page and pull him into a world of romance and adventure, sometimes bringing him to tears of joy or sorrow as if he had an emotional, spiritual link with the characters, who felt as real as they were. She never thought any less of him because she would be crying too as she read or listened whenever it was his turn to tell a story.

The sound of his mobile phone ringing downstairs drew him away from the tales of _Alice in Wonderland and Other Places_. He went downstairs into the living room and picked it up from the coffee table.

_Belle calling…_

Rumple answered his phone the nanosecond he registered the caller ID. ‘Belle?’ he said eagerly.

‘Hello Rumple,’ said Belle stonily.

Hopes of reconciliation faded quickly from his mind and so tempered his excitement, lowering his expectations to their original settings. ‘How are you?’ he asked. ‘Is everything all right? Is it the baby?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Yes, I’m fine. We’re fine. Why?’

‘It’s late,’ said Rumple, glancing at the clock. ‘I thought something bad had happened to you both.’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘Why are you calling, Belle?’ said Rumple warily.

‘How’s Mrs Weaver?’

‘She’s going to be okay.’

‘And the baby?’

Rumple hesitated, wondering whether to tell Belle she was having a girl, but decided against it. If Mrs Weaver wanted people to know, she would tell them – if Emma hadn’t told people already. ‘Very healthy. They’ve been discharged.’

‘So she’s staying at Granny’s.’

‘No. She’s staying with me… I’ve given her a job at the shop. She’s my new apprentice.’

A protracted pause, and then –

‘…well. Didn’t take her long to get her feet under the table,’ Belle muttered.

Rumple frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

Was Belle really suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? The woman who had moved on with Will Scarlet – a married man! – the _second_ she had chucked him out of town? Well, she certainly hadn’t allowed the grass to grow under her feet before giving her heart away to the first man she met. And how _dare_ she insinuate he would replace her so quickly! He didn’t when she left his castle and Regina suggested he get a new girl, he didn’t when she had lost her memory and destroyed their chipped cup, not even when she had become Lacey, who had actually loved the darkness in him, not just that of his curse – not one moment during all their separations and setbacks, trials and tribulations did he even _think_ about another woman!

And even if he had, or wanted to, _she_ was the one who ended it. _She_ was the one who didn’t want to be with him.

‘I’d never hold a person I’d just met like that…’ (No, thought Rumple, you just stick your tongue down their throats in the shop where you used to share kisses with your husband, not caring whether he was alive or dead) ‘Of course, you could just be friends.’

‘She’s married with a baby,’ Rumple reminded her firmly, making it clear that neither he nor Mrs Weaver would be so dishonourable.

‘Yeah, married – widowed – baby, whatever. You two looked like people who are real close. And her husband isn’t even cold yet.’

‘Indeed. Married – widowed – with a baby. Neither of which have prevented Hook from trying to get his leg over any bit of skirt that caught his eye – my ex-wife included; after getting them drunk first. Those weren’t signals telling him to back off, no, those are just signals. Like a great big bat-signal in the sky: “Sail south, the Captain is ready to dock his ship in your harbour”.’

‘Why can’t she stay at Granny’s?’

‘I might ask you the same thing. Or what’s wrong with your perfectly comfortable apartment over your library? Is it because _I_ gave it to you, is that it?’

‘Answer the question,’ said Belle, whilst conveniently avoiding answering his.

‘Why? Too close for comfort? Why do you care so much anyway?’

‘I don’t,’ she said unconvincingly.

Rumple sighed. ‘I’m just trying to help her out. Just until she gets on her feet. She doesn’t have anyone else. There is absolutely nothing going on between Mrs Weaver and myself. Was it Zelena? I bet it was her, that jealous witch. She planted that doubt in your head. Of course you’d believe her trite, what with you two being bosom buddies for about five minutes. But rest assured, Belle, that my only relationship with Mrs Weaver is being her landlord and her employer… and her friend. Just her friend. That’s it. Okay?’

Belle said nothing for a moment. ‘Okay.’

Rumple could tell Belle didn’t believe him. He could’ve told her that Hitler was an evil dictator and she would call him a liar.

‘David dropped off your tape,’ said Belle now.

‘Oh,’ said Rumple. He didn’t ask if she had listened to it. From her telephone manner, she would either never listen to it or she had and it had made no impression on her than his crossing the barriers of dreams to save her.

‘After you held the information about his father’s death over his head, no doubt,’ Belle went on. ‘You just can’t stop yourself taking advantage of people and making deals, can you?’

Is that what Charming had said happened? Or was Belle jumping to conclusion about the shepherd doing a favour for him? And he had thought his unofficial co-parent-in-law had been sincere when he called him family…

‘It wasn’t a deal, it was a request,’ said Rumple. ‘I had already given Charming what he wanted. In gratitude he offered to return the favour and I asked him – giving him every right to refuse – if he could deliver my tape to you, knowing you wouldn’t want to see me. And even if it _was_ a deal; it was hardly selling your soul to the devil.’

‘Or your firstborn?’

‘It’s _my_ fault people don’t read my contracts? _I’m_ to blame that people come to me, knowing my reputation, knowing that all magic comes with a price – not just _my_ magic – and yet they refuse to read the small print as they willingly sign over to me the most valuable thing they have? Or perhaps comfort, riches and power are just more important to them than the riches they already possess?’

‘Rather like _you_.’

‘You really think we’d all be in this world right now if I didn’t care about my Bae? Or if the Charmings didn’t care about Emma beyond needing the Saviour to defeat the Wicked Witch to save their second-born?’

‘Tuh,’ said Belle disparaging.

White-hot anger coursed through his veins. He could take whatever Belle threw at him – that he was a beast, that he was a coward, her belief he loved power more than her – but he would _not_ allow her to insult his father’s love for his boy, who would still be here right now if she had just let sleeping dogs lie!

Rumple turned towards the mirror over the fireplace. He slammed his hands down on the marble mantlepiece, making the ornaments on top rattle alarmingly, and Belle’s image appeared in the mirror, sitting with her back to him in the captain’s cabin of the Jolly Roger, her phone pressed to her ear. She jumped in fright and jerked around to look into the mirror directly behind her to stare in alarm at Rumple’s livid face.

‘Now, do that again to my face,’ he said.

‘How are you doing that?’ Belle gasped, looking as though she was afraid that Rumple would suddenly step right through the glass into her sanctuary.

‘I told you there are other reasons a mirror might be covered. And I needed you to see just how serious my face is right now.’

They cancelled the calls on their mobiles (there was no need for them now) and Belle approached the mirror.

‘Did you trace the call?’ she asked indignantly. ‘Or did you put a magical tracer in the tape just to track me down?’

‘Oh, I don’t need magic to know you’d be staying at the home of one the many people who have wronged me. If you could ask the woman who killed my son for help, you would surely accept the help of the man who ran off with my first wife and leaving Bae without a mother. It was either going to be him or the woman who locked you up for nearly three decades, cursed you and stole your heart for leverage to use you as a pawn against me. Or that nest of the harpies who took my son in their den of iniquity. Or the “father” you were so desperate to wake you, who kidnapped you, tried to kill the person you are and who refused to save his own daughter unless I left for good. Or the blabbermouth princess who told Mr Hyde that you were carrying my child in the first place, who threw you under the bus to save their own skins. Not to mention her daughter, who ordered the Queen of Dunbroch to assassinate you, all so she could save the man who murdered an innocent man to get revenge on me and the woman who turned him into a Dark One. And her wayward son, a wannabe-hero after your own heart, who, had you still been in this world at the time, would have killed you with his clever half-baked idea to destroy all magic – none of whom give a damn about you! They would’ve left you behind in the Underworld, they would have left you at the mercy of Mr Hyde without turning a hair, just as they left you in that hospital with no idea who you are to be drugged up on tranquilizers and made to feel like you were crazy!’

‘ _They’re_ not the problem! _You_ are! _You’re_ the one my son warned me about! The only one we need protection from is _you_! I’ve got friends who can protect me! I need to put my son first! I need to keep him as far away from you as possible to stop you from destroying us! And if I have to stay on a ship, in a convent, in a mansion, in an attic, in my father’s house, in a cell in the sheriff’s station, in the basement of the hospital, or take a portal to the Enchanted Forest, so be it!’

He was wasting his breath, his heart and his time. Once Belle’s mind was set on something nothing in all the realms would change it. Especially him. She hated and feared him so much she would rather stay in those infernal places with her sham-friends, even runaway to another world with his son than be with him.

‘You may not think that you need me, Belle,’ said Rumple quietly, ‘but you will. You think I’m the only one you need to worry about? You forget whose child it is you’re carrying. He will have a mark on his head by virtue of who he is, so we have to do what’s best for him to protect him… and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to do that. If you don’t want to work with me, that’s your choice. But be prepared.’

Belle’s eyes were like chips of ice. ‘Threats won’t make me love you again, Rumple,’ she said coldly.

Rumple’s insides went glacial. So she finally had the guts to say it to his face. That was why the kiss didn’t work… because Belle didn’t love him.

‘No…’ he said. ‘Love won’t bring you back to me… but necessity will. You Heroes always say you’re done with me… until you _need_ something from me. And I thought you said a hero would never resort to darkness. Of course, you also said running never made anyone a hero. That no one decides your fate but you. And yet that gave you the right to decide my fate, make me your slave. Your rules have changed every time it was convenient. Someday, Belle, you’re going to need my help, and I’m telling you right now… you’re not getting it.’  
  
‘You don’t scare me,’ said Belle, though the waver in her voice said otherwise. ‘I know how sad you are. You’ll be down here in a minute, on your kneeing, begging for my forgiveness. We both know if I pick up the phone you’ll come running.’

‘Why pick up the phone? Why not just steal my dagger and command me to do your bidding? Or better yet, no one’s ever experimented with it for mental control, why not just erase all my memories and start my personality from scratch and mould me into the husband you think you ought to have, instead of the husband you said in your wedding vows you loved for his flaws as he loves you for yours. Make me the penitent husband, the one who gets down on his knees and begs for your forgiveness because I’m always the wrong ways one, and you, Perfect Belle, are the Heartsome Heroine who puts up with me. That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Just a beast to control… or to put out of its misery.’

His words brought back memories of that day in the diner when he had told Mrs Weaver to shoot him to save Belle and the baby and to end his pain.

‘Did you really mean it, what you said at Granny’s?’ asked Belle. ‘Or was the whole “sacrifice your life” thing was just you being dramatic? Just another one of your tricks? Just trying to get me to say something nice? Or to get me to come back to you?’

‘You really think I would threaten suicide just to get your attention? Just to make you feel sorry for me?’

‘Well, wasn’t it? Basically?’

‘No!’ said Rumple hotly. ‘It bloody well wasn’t! And I resent the implication! I’m not bloody Hook who threw himself off the roof of your library just to get Emma to come running!’

‘You know, you were right about one thing: you’ve destroyed hundreds of lives where there was only one. You just keep finding new ways to increase the suffering around you, don’t you?’

‘That was never my intention.’

‘Well, then what was _your intention_?’

‘To fix my mistakes. To make things right.’

‘You’re _not_ fixing them! You just make things _worse_!’  
  
‘Says the pot to the kettle! Every time you try to be a hero people get hurt – or killed!’

And before he could stop himself, Rumple was shouting; all his frustration, all his pain, all his resentments, all the things he was half-ashamed of was pouring out of him, his voice becoming louder and more cracked with every word as he offloaded everything he had been holding back.

‘I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I?! No matter what I do! I followed your stupid rules; I became the purest bloody hero who ever lived, I tried to research turning the darkness into light magic like you wanted, I destroyed the contract without hurting anyone, I saved everyone from Pan – _again!_ – when he wanted to steal one of your hearts to get back to the land of the living, I gave up my kingdom to find a way to wake you, I went into your dreams to save us both, I just stopped your would-be murderer now drinking buddy – the man I hate – from being killed and it still wasn’t good enough! So what does it take to please you, Belle?! Do the wrong way and I get punished! Do the right way and you don’t care! Do the Belle way and I _still_ lose?! Doesn’t matter whether I’m a Villain! Doesn’t matter whether I’m a Hero! I can’t ever win with you, so what’s the point?! What’s the bloody point?! Tell me! Why did you even bother to save my life?! You clearly don’t need me! What am I, just a habit you can’t be arsed to break?! Well?!’

Belle didn’t answer. Her lower lip was trembling, robbed of anything to say, her eyes wide and over bright.

‘No reply… Perfect,’ said Rumple quietly. ‘Thank you…’

‘F-for what?’ said Belle in a timid voice.

‘When we met, I told you I was a difficult man to love. But more than that, I think… I _know_ I’m a man _no one_ can love… Thank you for the final proof.’

Rumple pushed himself away from the mirror. Away from Belle.

‘Enjoy your tape,’ said Rumple, his voice trembling, refusing to break down in front of her. ‘Don’t bother listening to it. Throw it straight in the bin, where you’ll put it anyway – along with the chipped teacup, your wedding ring… and my crushed soul and broken heart… You _never_ should have brought me back… Goodnight Miss French.’

And with that, he waved his hand, leaving the MirrorSpace chatroom and Belle’s image vanished just as she opened her mouth to speak, to be replaced by his own wretched reflection. He threw his phone at the hated reflection and it shattered, showering the mantle with broken glass.

A piece of paper fluttered to the floor having been concealed behind the glass this whole time. He picked it up and read it. It was the letter he had started writing to Belle after she had left his castle, drunk on whiskey, heartbreak and darkness. He was hurt and angry, but his words from another lifetime seemed appropriate now, standing alone in his vast living room, surrounded by trinkets:

_Dearest Belle,_

_I have all the possessions for which a man may dream. My castle is spacious, I have the finest of furniture, and I possess endless spools of gold._

_But I have no heart._

_Black as it may have been, I once had it working again. No. You had it working again. It was you, and it was yours. And you took it. You took it from me – my heart. You took it and you left. You hurt me, and I hate you. I HATE YOU. Because I love you, and you made me need you. And I DON’T CARE that I told you to go. You’re gone! You LEFT! You’re gone, and I will never forgive. Never forgive. I wish, I wish you were dea–_

Rumple scrunched it up, sickened, unable to complete the word as he had been unable to complete the letter. This was a drunken, half-dead lie that wasn’t even true long enough to finish being written. No matter how much pain loving Belle had caused him he would never wish her dead. He would never hurt Belle. Never.

He threw the poisonous letter into the fire as he should’ve done a long time ago. He hurried upstairs to his bedroom and made straight for his en suite bathroom. He braced his hands on the edge of the sink and gazed at the worthless man staring back at him. He took in the deep lines around his eyes, the silver in his hair – gods, he was old! And ugly. What woman would want him? He felt nauseous just looking at the face of the useless, pathetic coward, a man who failed at everything.

He couldn’t save Bae. His second-born son hadn’t even been born yet and already hated his guts. And Belle, at last, saw him for who he really was. She thought she saw a good man, but finally, after all the signs that had be glaring in her face, she could see the monster.

Rumple glared into his own eyes, sick with loathing. He _hated_ the man he saw in the mirror, more than any man or beast could claim to hate him.

He was tempted to smash his fist into the glass and destroy this mirror too so as not to have to look at his own face. He wanted to destroy every mirror in the house, in the town and obliterate his reflection from the world.

Only the knowledge that the destruction would disturb Mrs Weaver and bring her running enabled his self-control. Mrs Weaver needed sleep and space to relax after the false labour episode. Or perhaps his shouts and the sound of him breaking the mirror downstairs had already woken her. She had maybe even now snuck out the bedroom window as Belle had done and runaway rather than stay another minute in the same house as him.

Who would blame her?

Without breaking eye contact with himself, Rumple fumbled in a drawer and withdrew a pair of straight silver scissors. It wasn’t the Shears of Destiny, but it will have to do. _Anything_ to change his outward appearance and into a man worthy to be the husband Belle would love and the father his second-born could be proud of.

His fingers tightened convulsively around the closed blades as he lifted his other hand to his head and seized a chunk of his hair. With grim pressure, he raised the scissors, opened the sharp blades wide like the jaws of a crocodile and closed them around the hank of hair with a satisfyingly loud snip. He watched the amputated part of himself flutter down into the sink.

He had cut close to his scalp, leaving a short tuft of greying hair sticking out from his temple. Nothing happened. Rumple grabbed another fistful of hair and sliced through it again. And then again. And again, and again, and again, gaining momentum, his actions becoming wilder as he hacked away at his silky, shaggy hair. He couldn’t stop.

The floor and the sink were littered with uneven chunks of long and short cut hair, individual hairs hung in the hair from the frenzy of his hacking. Gasping, Rumple dropped the scissors at last which fell into the sink with a clatter, where it joined the scattered forlorn remains of his hair. Rumple braced both hands on the sink, struggling to breathe, staring at his mutilated crown of hair on his head.

It hadn’t worked. There was no miracle transformation. The spell hadn’t been broken. No handsome prince had emerged like Michelangelo’s sculptures of the slaves, nor did he turn into Belle’s Handsome Hero, whose story she carried around like a bible. He only saw his own face staring out at him, no more or less monstrous, but now with a crown of thorns.

He’d just made it worse, like he made everything worse. Cutting off his hair had changed nothing, his scalp covered in uneven tufts sticking out in all directions and long uncut strands hung in patches around his head. Far from being an improvement, it just made him look like Gollum, another poor creature who had been corrupted by an evil cursed magical artefact and reduced to an irredeemable monster.

How on earth was he going to explain this to Belle?

_‘I just wanted to make a fresh start.’_

_‘You didn't cut your hair for me. You cut it for you because you are sick and tired of looking at the man in the mirror. But you forget... I always see you for who you are.’_

Rumple’s head was suddenly full of a cacophony of voices whispering, shouting and jeering at him, overlapping each other so that it was difficult to discern whose voice was whose, of more than three hundred years of insults, of people telling him he was unlovable, evil, worthless…

_I was never supposed to be a father. I must let go of the one thing that’s holding me back. YOU._

_You became what everyone thought you were – a coward! Just like your father! You could’ve fought, Rumple! You could’ve DIED!_

_The man who ran._

_Everyone you’ve ever known has left you. Beneath all that power, you’re nothing more than an unloved, lonely, lost boy._

_You coward! You promised! Don’t break our deal!_

_You may be immortal now but you’re no less a coward!_

_I’m so sorry, my dear Rumple. But I’m not going with you… You told me not to stop until they were on their knees. My HEART was stopping me._

_Sometimes you have to choose power over love._

_You cannot go with this… beast._

_You’re a coward, Rumplestiltskin… All you’ll have is an empty heart and a chipped cup._

_You’re a bastard._

_You twisted little imp._

_You’re still a man who makes wrong choices._

_You’re a monster, Rumplestiltskin._

_You cold-blooded bastard._

_This pink squirming little lava that wanted to eat my dreams alive and never stop! Can’t I be free of you?_

_Be a good little Dark One and get back in your cage._

_If you won’t come willingly, what choice do I have? Take me to the Snow Queen._

_Be a man for once!_

_NO ONE COULD EVER, EVER LOVE ME!_

_Once I saw the man behind the beast…now there’s only a beast. Rumplestiltskin… I command you to leave Storybrooke._

_You’re pathetic. Watching you come groveling back to me like a dog begging for scraps._

_You've broken my heart too many times… I have spent too many years trying to mend your heart. Now I-I need to protect mine._

_All those broken promises... us being together... it only causes heartbreak… Our child will be better off waiting with me than being in debt to you.  
  
Do not let him destroy us, like he did his last family.  
  
I'm not making a home with you. Our son gave me a warning, and I'm going to listen to it._

_Now he can finally pay for everything he’s done._

_The Crocodile deserves to die! …do the right thing and put this beast out of his misery!_

_You’re the cause of all of this. The curse, the Evil Queen, why the Darkness still exists…_

_You’ve already destroyed one Belle’s life. Don’t destroy another._

_You ruined what you had with Neal and Belle. And, whatever this is, Mrs Weaver’s not your second chance…_

_She’ll see you for who you really are sooner or later… You_ _did the right thing today. That doesn’t mean you’ll do the same tomorrow._ _You’re a disease, infecting the lives of everyone you come into contact with. When are you gonna learn? You’re not one of the good guys, Rumplestiltskin. You just destroy everything that’s good._

_You just can’t stop yourself taking advantage of people and making deals, can you?_

_You’ve destroyed hundreds of lives where there was only one. You just keep finding new ways to increase the suffering around you, don’t you?_

_Beast… Coward… Crocodile… Unloved… Monster…_

He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand being himself anymore. He seized the scissors again, possessed with a suddenly overwhelming urge to plunge it into his own heart. Without hope, without love, without Belle… what was the point?

Then he remembered he was immortal – doomed to go on alone, unloved, until the end of time itself. He had lived for Belle, and now he was trapped inside his own life. Unwilling to live, unable able to die.

He lowered the pointless scissors and covered his eyes in dismay with a trembling hand, raking it through his hairtrosity.

There came the sound of hurried footsteps coming up the stairs.

‘Mr Gold?’

The sound of Mrs Weaver’s voice broke the mirror’s hold on him, and he tore his eyes away from his own reflection to face his pretty lodger as she appeared in the doorway, the scissors in his hand.

‘Are you all right? I heard shouting, and then I couldn’t find you and –’

At the sight of him, she gasped, her eyes widening and clapped both her hands to her mouth. She couldn’t have looked more horrified if she’d walked in here and found Rumple unconscious in a bathtub of his own blood with his wrists sliced open.

‘What did you do?’ Mrs Weaver squeaked, looking like she was about to cry as she saw his butchered hair.

She hurried closer, her arms lifting as she reached out to him. At the last second, she stopped herself, her hands hovering around his head and what was left of his hair.

‘What happened? Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’

He hurt himself by hurting others. He hurt himself by just existing. It hurt that she would show such concern for someone so undeserving of love and affection, but if she was looking for blood, if that was her only concern, he could set her mind at ease. ‘No…’

‘What happened?’ Mrs Weaver asked again.

An hour ago they were having a lovely dinner and now he was holed up in his bathroom consumed with a sudden desire to become Edward Scissorhands.

Rumple ran a hand ruefully through his uneven hairs, almost unconsciously. ‘Would you believe me if I said I felt like a change?’

‘Is that what it was?’ Mrs Weaver prompted gently.

Rumple shook his head; his lips pressed together, his eyes and throat burning. ‘It was self-mutilation,’ he said miserably. ‘I thought… if I could just cut away the bits of me Belle doesn’t love… I could find something worth loving. So I kept cutting… and cutting… and cutting… That’s when I realised; how can I when I hate myself? If Belle can’t love me… no one can. No one will –’

Rumple broke down into sobs, all his shame and certainties gushing out of him.

Mrs Weaver felt horrified, sickened. It wasn’t just a cry for help, it was self-destruction. She had heard every cruel word Mrs Gold had hurled at him, their argument downstairs growing so heated that it carried up through the floor of her bedroom. Mr Gold had hated himself and his Belle had only told him that he should. Told him that she didn’t love him.

_Threats won’t make me love you again, Rumple…_

Without another word, Mrs Weaver wrapped her arms around this broken man, pulling him into a hug, and Rumple collapsed against her with a muffled sob, clinging to her warmth with everything he had. This was wrong. She wasn’t his Belle. He didn’t deserve this Belle’s comfort, or from any version of her, but she was here and she was offering it to him willingly, freely, and he needed her so very badly.

He just wanted to stop hurting. He just wanted his wife and sons back. He just wanted to love them, hold them, protect them. He just wanted to matter to _someone_ and not wish that he had died at birth and forgone all the pains of his unnaturally long life.

‘It’s just one black night, Mr Gold,’ she said soothingly, rocking him gently from side to side, like a child. ‘This is just the darkest hour before the dawn.’

‘It’s been the darkest hour ever since I was resurrected,’ Rumple moaned. He had already soaked her shoulder in his own tears and snot. ‘Ever since I lost my son. This is an endless night. And it just keeps getting darker. I’m drowning, Mrs Weaver. I could die and no one would care.’

‘I would care,’ said Mrs Weaver fiercely, making Rumple cry harder. ‘Mr Gold, whoever it was who made you feel like this, that you were flawed, unworthy, they’re wrong. I saw your entire life in the dreamcatcher, not just your relationship with Mrs Gold, including the parts even my Rumple never told me. You always talk about all the bad you’ve done, but you’ve also done great good. The children from your village would’ve died if it wasn’t for you. Half the people in this town wouldn’t even exist if it wasn’t for you. You saved the town from Pan. You’ve kept the Dark Ones at bay for over three hundred years and still held on to your ability to love. You’re a miracle…’

Mrs Weaver didn’t let Rumple go until he’d stopped shaking, and even then she only pulled back enough so she could look at him. 

‘How can you not see it?’ she asked softly.

Rumple sniffled. ‘See what?’ he croaked.

‘That you _matter_.’

‘Because I _don’t_.’

Mrs Weaver reached up and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. ‘I think you just haven’t heard it enough to believe it.’

She had to be a dream, Rumple thought, no one, no woman would ever say such things to him, could look at him with such unwavering faith in the face of his flaws and still see value in him. _Not even my wife_.

‘Why are you always trying to save me?’

‘Because, Mr Gold, you’re a good man. And a good heart goes a long way. You don’t need to do all this…’ she gestured to his hair. ‘You shouldn’t have to change to be accepted by people who can’t accept you for you. You don’t have to become a better person, just remember who you were.’

‘After everything you’ve learned about me…’ said Rumple. ‘After everything I’ve done… Why haven’t you given up on me?’

Mrs Weaver smiled. ‘Because when you’ve found something that’s worth fighting for, you never give up.’

‘What if I’m beyond saving? What if I’m a lost cause?’

‘No cause is lost if there is but one fool left to fight for it.’

Rumple let out a shuddering gasp.

‘Belle,’ he pleaded to his one lifeline, his constant, his tether to reality, stopping him falling into the pit of despair. ‘Please. Help me.’

‘Ah. Three words I never refuse.’

Rumple smiled tremulously, the tight bands inside his chest falling away. Mrs Weaver pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Rumple, who blew his nose and wiped his eyes.

‘We need a happy ending, Mr Gold,’ she said. ‘All the stories can’t be bad ones. Let’s start with this.’

Mrs Weaver ran her hand through his hair herself, stroking one of the few patches of long floof out of his eyes.

‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ said Rumple grimly.

‘No. Really. I mean, it’s… You look so… so…ssssss…’

‘Stupid,’ Rumple agreed.

‘Striking!’ said Mrs Weaver quickly. ‘I was going to say striking. It’s just I’ve only ever known my husband with long hair. It just needs evening out, that’s all.’

Rumple looked at his reflection in the mirror at his short and long hairs, looking a badly trimmed hedge. ‘I look like a hedgehog.’

‘I like hedgehogs. Prickly on the outside, but with a gentle soul underneath.’

She dragged a straight-back chair in the middle of the bathroom and took the scissors from his hand. ‘Sit down, and I’ll see what I can do.’

Rumple collapsed into the chair, physically and emotionally drained, allowing Mrs Weaver to get on with it, having no will left to argue with her. He closed his eyes losing himself in the blissful warmth of her gentle fingers running over his scalp, her fingertips on the remains of his hair as she measured it out before slicing them off. His head felt oddly without the familiar weight of his hair, lighter and colder. And if he was being honest with himself, _he_ felt lighter.

Mrs Weaver hummed softly as she worked, ‘Lavender’s Blue’ segueing into ‘Catch a Falling Star’ and then, having discovered YouTube, _The Rescuer’s_ ‘Someone’s Waiting For You’. Rumple wasn’t a fan of musicals, and he’d rather gouge his eyes out with a rusty fork than burst into song, but then, he thought drowsily, as the snip of scissors punctuated the music, tilting his head back and down whenever Mrs Weaver told him to, the others would have been sorry they missed this one-woman concert.

With Belle Weaver humming to him and running her fingers through his hair, taking care of him, the world felt less harsh, less dark, less hopeless. But Rumple had to catch himself once or twice, enjoying it too much, remembering his vow, forcing himself to remember that she was Mrs _Weaver_. Even Mrs Weaver, who had moved round to kneel in front of him, checking his hair was even, paused in what she was doing, reminding herself that her Rumple was not the man sitting in the chair.

‘There,’ she announced after what might have been years and at the same time no time at all. ‘What do you think?’

Rumple turned in his seat to look back into the mirror and stared at the man looking back at him. No… that could not be him. He looked the same and yet so… different. Some inner spiritual transformation had taken place. Stunned, he actually leaned forward to get a better look at the handsome man staring out at him. He looked shocked, but not in a ‘what on earth have you done’ sort of way. It was as if he was seeing himself clearly for the first time, no longer hidden behind curtains of soft shaggy hair or years of repression.

‘That’s… me?’ he whispered.

‘It is,’ said Mrs Weaver happily. ‘Not a bad view, eh?’

‘I look like a completely different person.’

Mrs Weaver squeezed his shoulders from behind, smiling at his reflection, her face close to his. ‘You look like the person you are on the inside.’

Rumple ran his hand over his small, tufty floof. ‘Do you think Belle will like it?’

‘The only question you need to ask yourself, Mr Gold, is… do _you_ like it?’

He took in his appearance, turning his head this way and that. He gave a small nod of approval, a genuine crooked smile spreading across his face. Now, at last, he could see what Belle had once seen in him, what Mrs Weaver still saw in him. If she didn’t see a monster when she looked at him, maybe he wasn’t one.

‘Yes,’ said Rumple. And he really did believe it. ‘I do. It’s me.’

‘Then that’s all that matters,’ said Mrs Weaver.

‘Thank you, Mrs Weaver.’

‘You’re welcome. But for the record: I like it. You look very handsome. It highlights your eyes. And, don’t take it the wrong way, but it makes you look younger. Good bone structure.’

Rumple snorted. ‘Bone structure?’

‘Hey, just be thankful I didn’t say pixie ears.’

It took few seconds for Rumple to process her teasing comment and realise that he was being likened to a fairy, too full of illation at being able to look at himself in the mirror without feeling disgusted, and giving Mrs Weaver time to make a ran for it. ‘Pixie, _what_? How dare you!’

Mrs Weaver squealed with laughter and Rumple chased her, catching her on the bed and proceeded to tickle her for her bold words. Mrs Weaver giggled and wriggled until she suddenly gasped, clutching her round stomach. Rumple ceased his tickling, scared that he had hurt her.

‘Are you okay?’

Mrs Weaver nodded, smiling. ‘Yeah. Yeah, here. She just kicked. Feel.’

She placed Rumple’s hand on her bump. Rumple felt the kick of baby Ellie beneath his hand, awed.

‘Wow,’ he breathed, moving his hand along the bump, feeling her daughter moving around. ‘Miracle, you know. Absolute miracle.’ He met her gaze. ‘You’re looking forward to it?’

Mrs Weaver nodded again, stroking her bump, lovingly. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I can’t wait now. I mean,’ she admitted, worrying her bottom lip, ‘it’s scary, but it’s a good scary.’

‘You’re going to be a great mum,’ said Rumple confidently.

‘And you would know in the twenty four hours you’ve known me?’

‘Yes, I would. You’re already the best mother in the world. Look at all the practice you’ve had.’

‘Practice?’

‘Well, after two Rumplestiltskin’s, how difficult can looking after a real baby be?’

Mrs Weaver laughed. ‘Oh!’ Baby Ellie kicked harder. ‘I think she wants another story.’

‘Like mother, like daughter.’

‘Would you like to sit for a bit and listen?’

Rumple nodded. ‘Okay.’

They returned to her bedroom, settled fully clothed on top of the covers and Mrs Weaver pulled out her world’s version of the storybook. It looked different to Henry’s book. It was smaller, about the size of a hardback book and thicker than _The Complete Miss Marple_. The cover was blue with a patterned border that surrounded a picture of the Dark Castle. And emblazoned across it was the immortal title _Once Upon A Time_.

‘So you’re the Author in your world?’ said Rumple. It made sense, really. Who better to be the guardian and recorder of people’s stories than Belle?

‘Yes. Do you not have one?’

‘No, we do. My grandson, Henry, is the Author here. And we have the book. _Once Upon A Time_ ; a story about right and wrong written by people who think they’re always right.’

Mrs Weaver chuckled. She flicked through the pages and stopped at the beginning of a very familiar story, topped with a picture of a chipped teacup and a red rose lying in front of it. Rumple settled down to listen to the story.

Mrs Weaver cleared her throat and began to read:

‘“Once upon a time, there was a Beast that took a girl prisoner. But he fell in love with her. And he let her go. That was when the girl knew that she loved him too. He thought he would never see her again. But despite his doubts that experience and life had cursed him, his fears that those who should have loved him were right, that he was not worthy of love; his Beauty came back to him…”’

‘I remember that story,’ Rumple whispered, smiling, happy tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered how he and Belle fell in love. ‘It’s one of my favourites.’

‘See?’ said Mrs Weaver encouragingly. ‘You let Belle go once before – more than a few times,’ she added cheekily, ‘and you found a way back to each other. This isn’t how the story ends. Everyone knows _Beauty and the Beast_ has a happy ending. You will find your way back to her again. I promise.’

As Mrs Weaver continued to read her story, Rumple played with his wedding ring and stared out the window at the solitary bright star amidst an ocean of darkness, his thoughts drifting to his Belle, wondering what she was doing and lamenting that she wasn’t here beside him, reading their story to their baby growing inside her.

Will they find their way back to each other? Could they…?

*

Belle sat in the cabin of the Jolly Roger, playing with the cassette tape from Rumple in her hands. She longed to know what was on it, yet terrified of what she might hear.

She had been shaken by the argument with Rumple. Not from fear of him but from shock of what he had divulged to her. She had longed for him to open up to her, to have the courage to let her in, but to hear him highlight her own hypocrisy, to hear him say that she made him feel worthless, had strung him along, had confirmed what he had always feared: that no one can ever, ever love him, had convinced him that come what may reconciliation between the two of them was unobtainable, had shaken her to her core.

He resented her for bringing him back from the dead and for not allowing him to let go while he was in the coma. And his renewed use of her cursed maiden name felt more like a divorce than when she had forced him over the town line, banishing from her life forever without having the courage to watch it happen.

But then again, Rumple had recorded this before their shouting match through the MirrorSpace, when he was desperate to prove to Belle that he loved her; willing to make anything sacrifice, to pay the price that was due, to give anything for her, to give anything to recapture the closeness they once knew. To relive everything they knew.

But after what happened, it would only serve as a painful reminder that she shut him out. She had his love and she shut him out.

_He’s gone. He’s gone forever. He’s not coming back. And it’s my fault._

It wasn’t supposed to be like this; Rumple there in his empty salmon pink castle and Belle here hiding on a pirate ship. Hook had even admitted that making Rumple angry by harbouring her here on his ship was a bonus as she willing became his tool in his vendetta again her husband that he had never truly given up in exchange for sanctuary.

They should be preparing for the arrival of their baby; her first born child and Rumple’s second chance at fatherhood. They should be building a nursery, picking baby names, spending more money on baby things than a married couple would spend on furniture. She should be boring Rumple with facts on pregnancy from her books (‘did you know your heart gets bigger both in length and width? Love for your baby actually makes your heart grow?’), though knowing that he was listening intently, while he rubbed her swollen feet, stroked her growing stomach, fluffed her pillows, running out to satisfy whatever craving she was soon to develop and soothing any fears she may have of being a bad mother.

She stared at the unknown tape. It couldn’t possibly be any worse than what she was feeling right now.

She placed the cassette into the tape player, pressed play and sat back in her chair. Rumple’s voice filled the room. He might have been sitting right beside her.

‘ _This is for our little child. A little verse I like:_

_‘Sleep weel, my bairnie, sleep.  
The lang, lang shadows creep,  
The fairies play on the munelicht brae  
An’ the stars are on the deep. _

_‘The auld wife sits her lane  
Ayont the cauld hearth-stane,  
An’ the win’ comes doon wi’ an eerie croon  
To hush my bonny wean. _

_‘The bogie man’s awa’,  
The dancers rise an fa’  
An’ the howlet’s cry frae the bour-tree high  
Comes through the mossy shaw. _

_‘Sleep weel, my bairnie, sleep.  
The lang, lang shadows creep,  
The fairies play on the munelicht brae  
An’ the stars are on the deep. _

Belle smiled as she pressed her hands to her flat stomach. Whether he was reciting _Sleep Well_ or _Love You Forever_ for their baby or reading from the phone book or even Granny’s menu, Rumple’s calm, smooth, rhythmic voice enveloped her like one of his warm hugs.

Then the music they danced to on their honeymoon and in her dreams began to play, catching her off guard, and Rumple’s voice issued from the tape player once more.

‘ _For my wife… I know my words mean nothing to you now, but I’m hope these words will…_

_‘O my luve is like a red, red rose,_  
_That’s newly sprung in June:_  
_O my luve is like the melody,_  
_That’s sweetly played in tune._

_‘As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,_  
_So deep in luve am I;_  
_And I will luve thee still, my dear,_  
_Till a’ the seas gang dry._

_‘Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,_  
_And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;_  
_And I will luve thee still my dear,_  
_While the sands o’ life shall run._

_‘And fare thee weel, my only luve!_  
_And fare thee weel a while!_  
_And I will come again, my luve,_  
_Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.’_

Unbeknownst to her at that moment, Rumple strode along the docks alongside the Jolly Roger listening to their wedding music floating out of the open window. Belle was playing the tape he had given her. Then he heard his own voice speaking the closest poem he had found that conveyed his love for his darling Belle…

_‘I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_  
_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._  
_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_  
_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

_‘I love you as the plant that never blooms_  
_but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_  
_thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_  
_risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

_‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._  
_I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_  
_so I love you because I know no other way_  
_than this: where I does not exist, nor you,_  
_so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,_  
_so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep._

The music faded as Rumple finished reciting the verses. His voice had been thick with emotion when he had recorded this, his brogue becoming more prominent, not just reading the words but feeling them. He truly believed what he was saying. That he loved her and would love her still.

Rumple whispered into the darkness, staring up at the cabin window where Belle sat feet away from him, out of sight, ‘Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt thou the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar… but never doubt I love.’

As he walked away, Belle stared up at the star shining brightly above her, closed her eyes and made a silent wish upon it.

‘ _Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight…_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumple’s letter: https://iamthebricklayer.tumblr.com/post/31181788808/i-photoshopped-rumpelstiltskins-letter-with-the
> 
> Rumple’s tape:
> 
> For our child: 'Sleep Well' by Murdoch Maclean & 'Love You Forever' by Robert Munsch.  
> For my wife: 'A Red, Red Rose' by Robert Burns & 'One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII' by Pablo Neruda. 
> 
> 'Doubt thou the stars are fire' – Hamlet, Act 2 Scene 2.
> 
> 'Star Light, Star Bright' nursey rhyme.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!

Mrs Weaver was weaving a baby blanket while the enchanted broomstick swept the floors before the shop opened. Mr Gold, though still forlorn that he couldn’t be with his wife, had been in better spirits this morning after their talk last night. Finally being able to offload some emotional baggage without feeling judged seemed to have lessened the great weight he had carried around inside him for so long.

The broom returned to the back room and propped itself up against the wall. The little clock chimed quarter to ten. Mrs Weaver went over to the cabinet to put away her sewing for later.

There on the shelf she found this world’s chipped teacup. It had appeared to be broken during its long history and glued back together with melted gold, like Kintsugi. She took it down and smiled at it. No matter how much this cup had been through, it survived. And Mr and Mrs Gold’s love will too.

Inside it was a sparkling diamond Claddagh ring. She picked it up and stared at it. It sparkled in the low light. Without thinking she placed it on her finger alongside her gold wedding ring, examining it.

Then her eyes fell on Mr and Mrs Gold’s wedding photo on the side and her heart gave a jolt as she saw this very ring on Belle Gold’s finger. She was wearing Mr Gold’s wife’s wedding ring! The chipped cup was her ring dish!

Mrs Weaver made to pull it off. But the ring wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder but the ring was stuck on her swollen pregnant finger.

Then the shop bell jingled.

‘Oh shit!’ Mrs Weaver hissed.

What was Mr Gold going to say? What was _Mrs_ Gold going to say?!

She stepped out from behind the curtain, with no explanation to justify her wearing Belle Gold’s ring. ‘I’m sorry, I –’

But it wasn’t Mr Gold. It was Mr Hyde.

‘Well, well, well,’ said Hyde in a voice reminiscent of _Star Wars_ Palpatine and Darth Maul combined when he saw her. ‘Snow White said you were pregnant with the Dark One’s child, I just didn’t realise how far along you were. But then again you were trapped inside a box.’

Realising quickly that he thought he was speaking to Mrs Gold, wedding ring or not, Mrs Weaver said, ‘Mr Hyde, I presume.’

‘Good to meet you, Mrs Gold,’ said Hyde, inclining his head to her. ‘You’re glowing.’

‘We’re closed,’ said Mrs Weaver bluntly. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Oh, for me I think you’ll make an exception.’

The Evil Queen stood behind Hyde holding a red glass apple in her hand.

‘What do you want?’ said Mrs Weaver, keeping them both in her sights.

‘I’m looking for something I believe that you have here,’ said Hyde, glancing around at the items on display. ‘An old cameo necklace.’ 

‘I know the one.’

‘Give it to me.’

‘Or what? You’ll hurt me?’

‘If you try my limited patience. I could break you like a toothpick.’

‘Or I can just take your heart again and make you,’ said the Evil Queen, setting the glass apple down and raising her empty hand as if ready to rip her heart out.

‘Get out. Both of you.’

Rumple had emerged from the backroom, looking more formidable than ever with his short straight cut hair as he stood between Mrs Weaver and the dark dynamic duo. 

‘Wow…’ said the Evil Queen appreciatively, the same hungry look in her dark eyes as her wicked sister as she stripped Mr Gold with her eyes. ‘Look who cleans up nice. I _like_ it… highlights your eyes. 

Rumple didn’t look flattered by the compliment. ‘I won’t ask again, dearie.’ 

‘Why the change?’ she asked curiously, stroking a hand down the side of his face.

Rumple stopped her by gripping her wrist so hard, resisting the urge to twist it. ‘That would be _my_ business,’ he growled. 

‘Changing your appearance can’t help you,’ Hyde told him. ‘Oh, you can change the outside, but what’s inside is still there.’

‘If you mean his good heart? You’re right,’ said Mrs Weaver proudly. ‘Not even the darkest curse in all the realms could change it.’

Rumple’s face softened a little at her praise.

‘I think I’m gonna vomit,’ said the Evil Queen nauseously.

‘Now, the necklace,’ said Hyde.

‘And what will you be giving me in return?’ asked Rumple. 

‘Nothing.’

Hyde approached Rumple, who immediately proceeded to magically choke him. Hyde dropped to his knees and clutched his throat. At first he seemed to be gasping for air, then his expression cleared and he started laughing. The Evil Queen laughed with him.

Rumple looked confused. ‘Why won’t he die?’ 

‘Because, you can’t kill him,’ said the Evil Queen triumphantly. ‘Just like Regina couldn’t kill me. And now he knows it. So unless you want to spend the rest of your days choking him…’

Hyde continued to gasp on the floor, holding his throat, until finally Rumple ceased his futile attempt to choke him and released him. Hyde stood up, catching his breath.

‘About that necklace…’ 

Rumple glanced at a spot over Hyde’s shoulder. He turned and spotted the necklace.

‘There it is.’ He took it down from the shelf. ‘It has great meaning to me.’ 

‘And now it belongs to me,’ said Rumple. 

‘Not anymore. I’m taking it, and you’re letting me, because that’s how our deal works. You won’t stop me. These stories… they’re going to play themselves out, whether you like it or not. And I sense, you may not.’ 

‘What’s he talking about?’ Rumple looked warningly at the Evil Queen. ‘If it’s Belle, you promised not to touch her.’ 

‘Oh, right. I _won’t_ hurt the bookworm. We have a deal.’

‘But we don’t,’ said Hyde.

Rumple turned in time to see Hyde stroking Mrs Weaver’s cheek. Hyde and the Evil Queen left the shop together.

Mrs Weaver wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. She and Rumple looked uneasily at each other. The Evil Queen was forbidden from harming Mrs Gold through their deal. But there was nothing stopping Mr Hyde. 

*

On the Jolly Roger Hook was finishing off the last of his packing before he moved in with Emma.

‘That’s everything,’ Hook announced, closing the small chest.

‘What… one chest?’ Belle asked in surprise. ‘Well, I guess there won’t be many fights over closet space with Emma.’ 

‘Well, the seafaring life doesn’t call much for possessions. Speaking of, I have something to give you, ‘cause I’m leaving.’ 

‘What is it?’

Hook handed her a conch shell. ‘It’s a bit of mermaid magic. It’s how they stay in touch beneath the sea. If you’re in trouble, call into that. And I will hear you, using this.’

He showed her a smaller shell hanging on a necklace beneath his shirt.

‘They’re connected.’ 

‘So it’s like a shell-phone,’ said Belle, less enthusiastic as she would normally have been. ‘Clever. Thanks.’

‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Belle lied, still thinking of Rumple’s tape and the ramifications of their fight last night.

‘Is this about the Dark One?’ Hook asked in a businesslike way. ‘Don’t let him get inside your head with his mind games and guilt-trips.’

Belle shook her head. ‘This isn’t a mind game. Honestly, until last night, I can’t understand why he would even _want_ to be with me. The things he said to me were so, so… true. I pushed him away. I said horrible things to him.’

‘You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true either. Maybe now he’ll take the hint and leave you alone. Maybe leave town, if we’re lucky. And you can put all that misery behind you, at last.’

Belle glared at him. ‘It was _not_ all misery.’

Hook cocked his eyebrow at her, as if he thought she was lying to herself. ‘Enough of it was. Or you wouldn’t be hiding here on my ship with no ring on your finger.’

Belle rubbed her naked ring finger self-consciously. She didn’t even have a ring tan line to show for it. ‘We were together for so long… I honestly don’t know what I’m feeling.’

‘Well, that’s understandable. You forgot. It’s called happy.’

‘Killian.’

‘I’m not saying anything bad. Just that you were in love with your captor and somehow managed to escape from his dark and crazy dungeon.’

Hook made it sound like their love was Stockholm syndrome.

‘Doesn’t matter now,’ said Belle heavily. ‘He won’t want to come near me again after last night.’

‘Requesting permission to come aboard, Captain.’

Belle and Hook turned in the direction of the voice and stared at the man approaching them. It was Rumplestiltskin – Rumplestiltskin with _short_ hair! Gods, he looked even more handsome as he strode majestically towards her, his small floof rippling in the sea breeze. Rumple stopped at the foot of the gangplank, making no attempt to board the ship until given permission.

But Hook still drew his sword anyway. ‘Leave, Crocodile,’ said Hook pointing his weapon threateningly at Rumple. ‘I won’t allow you to destroy another son’s life.’

‘Not to seem rude,’ said Rumple calmly, ‘but when I said “captain”, I wasn’t actually talking to _you._ ’

Hook looked round at Belle, where Rumple was gazing.

‘The captain always goes down with his ship and you’ve forfeited that title when you decided to abandon ship to become a land lover with Miss Swan. Since you no longer live on the Jolly Roger, as of last night, that makes _Belle_ the captain of this ship.’

‘No it doesn’t!’ said Hook hotly, as though it was absurd for a woman to captain a ship.

‘It’s okay,’ said Belle, motioning him to lower his sword, still staring at Rumple’s hair that made him look like sex on a stick.

‘May I come aboard?’ Rumple asked Belle.

Belle nodded. ‘Yes.’ Rumple stepped on board. ‘I thought you said I wouldn’t see you again, let alone expect any help from you?’

‘People say a lot of things in anger. It’s easy to make bad choices when you’re mad or scared or stressed. It’s our choice whether or not to listen. Or have to courage to say… I’m sorry. I was hurt. Mad. I said more than I meant. And every time I hurt you, I hurt myself. I’m sorry, Belle. And I don’t just mean last night.’

Belle’s eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy or guilty by this, but she was nevertheless relieved that she hadn’t lost Rumple from her life forever.

At that moment Mrs Weaver appeared and Hook immediately went on the defensive again. ‘You will not step aboard my ship, Weaver!’ he shouted. Mrs Weaver continued her approached, stopping at the edge of the gangplank. ‘I _said_ –’

Mrs Weaver lifted her hand, the other carrying a flat velvet box. ‘I’m not aboard, am I?’ she pointed out.

Hook glared at her. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m Mr Gold’s apprentice. He wished me to accompany him. We have urgent business concerning Mrs Gold.’

Belle looked to Rumple. ‘Why are you here?

‘To protect _you_ ,’ said Rumple. ‘To protect you _both_.’

‘The only one they need protection from, _is_ you,’ said Hook. 

‘Well I’m afraid that’s not the case. Hyde has escaped. It appears he plans retribution against me as a result of our past dealings. And since he wants to use you as leverage against me, after Snow White let slip of your… association with me, I have to make sure he can’t do that again.’

‘Why would Hyde care anything about me?’ said Belle. ‘What did you do to him?’ Rumple doesn’t answer. She sighed, feeling let down again. ‘Of course, why would you tell me?’

But to her surprise Rumple answered. ‘Dr Jekyll was working on a serum to remove unwanted qualities in himself. I’m the reason his serum works, and how Mr Hyde came out from hiding. As a result, a woman named Mary was killed. I didn’t kill her,’ he added quickly, for which Belle let out a sigh of relief, ‘but I fear Mr Hyde holds me responsible for her death. And in typical eye for an eye fashion…’

‘He wants to kill me to get back at you,’ Belle finished.

‘Yes.’

‘And you wonder why the lass doesn’t want you anywhere near her?’ said Hook pointedly.

‘I’ve made a deal with the Evil Queen for her to leave you and our unborn child alone. But I don’t think Hyde will be up to a similar negotiation. So I need you, please, to remain on this ship.’

Belle looked at Rumple in high astonishment. This was inconsistent with everything she knew about him, especially after last night. ‘You _want_ me to stay on the ship of one of the people who has wronged you?’

‘Until I have dealt with this problem, yes.’

‘And if I don’t?’

Again Rumple surprised her. Instead of threats or even casting a spell which gave her no choice but to remain on this ship, he said, ‘Then that’s your choice. But I think you’d agree that any potential assassins wouldn’t think to look for you on the ship of the pirate that has spent centuries trying to kill me.’

Belle nodded in agreement.

‘Can I trust that you can trust that _he_ can be trusted to keep you safe?’ Rumple asked.

Belle glanced round at Hook, then back to Rumple. ‘Yes.’

‘Then I must trust you. Before I go, I wanted to give you this.’

Mrs Weaver held out the velvet box and Rumple descended a few steps down the gangplank to retrieve it.

Hook let out a harsh laugh. ‘Think you can buy her back with gifts of baubles and empty promises? And a bad haircut?’

‘I don’t care what you think,’ said Rumple blithely. ‘And it’s not a gift. It was Belle’s to start with.’

Belle opened box revealing her pearl necklace. ‘My mother’s necklace…’ Belle breathed.

‘You have Mrs Weaver and her good eye to thank for this,’ said Rumple. ‘Three Dark Curses and it finally surfaced in the inventory.’

Belle reached to take it, but Hook stayed her hand, glaring Rumple with mistrust. ‘What’s your price?’

‘On true love? You couldn’t afford it,’ said Rumple. ‘And this is already Belle’s. I am merely returning it.’

Belle clipped her mother’s necklace back on.

Rumple smiled. ‘Back where it belongs. I always thought it suited you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Belle thankfully.

Rumple bowed and, quite abruptly, departed.

‘You’re leaving?’

Rumple looked back. ‘I told you. I have to remove the threat to you and our unborn child. Please stay here until I get back.’ He looked coldly at Hook. ‘My wife is putting her life and our child’s life in your hands. Anything happens to them and I’ll take your other hand, feed it to the crocodile and you’ll be known forever as Captain Coatrack.’

Rumple left with Mrs Weaver.

‘You really trust Hook will protect her?’ said Mrs Weaver doubtfully.

‘Of course not, I’d sooner trust him with my dagger,’ said Rumple, his face set like stone. ‘He tried to kill her, repeatedly, and only offered her lodgings on his ship to piss me off. But if I’m to earn back Belle’s trust, I have to trust her.’

‘I’ll stay with Belle.’

‘You will?’ said Rumple surprised, stopping. ‘But your restraining order.’

Mrs Weaver stopped too. ‘I married the king of loopholes. And no one decides my fate but me. This is your wife and child’s safety we’re talking about. I refuse to let history repeat itself and see another innocent get killed in the crossfire. You trust Belle. Well, I’m asking you to trust me. Will you?

Rumple nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Then do what you need to do.’

‘Please, be careful.’

‘Same to you.’

*

Rumple returned to the pawn shop and was looking through one of his ancient magic books. A small bottle of water sat beside it, a ghostly green glow drifting within its depth. All that remained of his late ex-wife, Milah. In addition to trying to work out a way to get rid of Hyde, he was looking for a way to extract her soul from the waters. He regretted dunking her and not just because Hades had gone back on their deal. Maybe he could make it right and find a way to release her and help her move on. Then she could be with their son again.

‘You’ll be with Baelfire again soon, Milah,’ said Rumple softly, lightly touching the bottle. ‘I promise.’

The bell jingled and Regina came in, doing a double-take at Rumple’s haircut as the man himself discreetly placed the vial containing his ex-wife beneath the counter.

‘Well. I like it,’ said Regina appreciatively. ‘Highlights your eyes.’ 

How original, Rumple thought, his expression bored. ‘Well, thank you very much,’ he said in a deadpan voice.

‘So, how’s the new Mrs Gold?’ asked Regina snidely.

‘Mrs _Weaver_ is the best apprentice I ever have. Partly because she’s not using the job to spy of me for you,’ said Rumple, closing the book and putting it away. ‘What about you? Have you made a move on your dead thief’s cheap replica yet? It took you nearly half a century to get over your stable boy.’

‘How dare you! Robin Hood isn’t even cold yet! I would never replace my true love with –’

‘True love? I’ve never seen you share true loves kiss. Oh right. A common fairy tells you that you’ll meet a tall dark handsome stranger with a lion tattoo and you believe that man’s you’re soulmate. Or a marauding lecher tells the Saviour – bringer of happy endings – that she’s his and suddenly she thinks it’s not only her job but that the lecher is her twoo wuv because they told her so. Tell me, are you ladies following your hearts true desires or holding on to the promise out of fear of being alone?’

‘My mother tried to pull that stunt with the Sheriff of Nottingham. But it didn’t work. And Robin Hood was my soulmate. It was even in the book – Page 23.’

‘A discarded idea, which your refusal even to talk to him cost Tinkerbell her wings. And, whilst I was unhinged with accommodating two minds in my head, I distinctly recall that when you first met your wifeless rouge, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight. You insulted him, his Merry Men, his entire way of life – not to mention you originally _killed_ his wife. But all that changed when you saw that little piece of body art. That being said, it was cruel that Robin Hood was taken from you when you had so little time together. And leaving Roland and Robyn orphans.’

‘Like you care.’

‘I meant it, Regina. I want you to be happy too. But know that your happiness wasn’t all dependant on one man. You have your son and a family you once sort to destroy. Shame we’re the masters of our own destruction.

‘Decided to do a spot of shopping, now you’ve lopped off your dark side?’

‘I take it you’ve seen my other half.’ 

‘She had similar views on my hair. It’s like you two are of one mind. And luckily for you, I wasn’t interested in what she was offering.’ 

‘Resisting the darkness? This _is_ a new you.’ 

‘Because _you’re_ doing such a good job at resisting your own? You have the heroes coddling you, holding your hand and throwing themselves face-down into every puddle of darkness that crosses your path so you don’t have to get your feet wet. Better to resist it and to face it head on than to cut and run like you’re doing. Is there something you want?’ 

‘Jekyll has a head start on you with a new serum. One that can destroy Hyde for good this time. He just needs your help.’ 

When they arrived at Jekyll’s lab, however, they found the doctor himself picking himself up from the floor amidst the wreckage of the destroyed laboratory.

‘My, my. Do you always leave things in such a mess?’’ said Rumple feigning bemusement.

‘What the hell happened here?’ asked Regina. 

‘They came for the serum,’ panted Jekyll, straightening his glasses, ‘smashed everything.’ 

So Hyde and the Evil Queen were one step ahead of them – again.

‘Can’t say I’m surprised that your stronger halves got the better of you, once again,’ said Rumple. ‘Pretty much how it goes with you two.’

‘The only reason the Evil Queen exists is because of you!’ snapped Regina.

‘You didn’t care about me, or my work, did you? Or even what you unleashed!’ Jekyll accused.

Rumple snorted. Why is it that he was always the sanest person in the room? ‘ _I_ didn’t unleash anything. _You_ did. That man out there? The Evil Queen? They’re not some monsters from the deep, they’re _you_. Except… stronger and smarter. You will never be able to defeat them, until you accept the fact that they are a part of you.’

‘No, he isn’t! Not this time. Because I had a feeling Hyde would find us, so I hid a little extra. Just in case.’

Jekyll produced a vial with a red liquid inside. 

‘Oh, great.’ Regina took the vial from Jekyll. ‘Then let’s do this. Gold?’ 

Rumple held out his hand. ‘Hand it over. It’ll only take a moment.’ 

Regina smirked. ‘I don’t think I’ll be ‘handing over’ our only weapon. You can work your magic from right there.’

Rumple shrugged. ‘Very well.’ 

Rumple plunged his hand into Jekyll’s chest and removed his glowing heart.

‘What are you doing?’ Regina shouted.

‘The Evil Queen may not care about innocent bloodshed, but we both know that _you_ do.’

‘You _did_ make a deal with her!’ said Regina as if this was the biggest betrayal of all.

‘She promised to leave Belle and my unborn child alone, which means the only person the serum is going to be used on, is Hyde. Since none of you cared when Hades wanted to take our baby until it affect you – same as when you left me to rot in Zelena’s cellar – why would I think you would care about Hyde coming after her?’

He withdrew his dagger and held it in front of Regina.

‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind.’ Regina, looking sour, poured the serum over the blade. ‘You’ll thank me for this, Regina. One day, you’ll finally realize… you can no more rid yourself of your darkness, than I can. Catch.’

He tossed Jekyll’s heart to Regina and poofed away to remove the threat to his family. 

*

Back on the Jolly Roger, Belle was browsing through the books on a shelf below decks.

‘You sure I can’t get you anything?’ asked Hook, lounging in a seat at the table behind her. ‘We could always crack open a barrel of rum, if you thought it’d help.’ 

Belle gave Hook a look over her shoulder as if he had just offered her a plate of raw fish. ‘I’m _pregnant_ , remember?’ 

‘Oh,’ said Hook, the smile fading from his face. ‘Yeah.’

‘And no, I don’t want anything.’

Hook sat back huffily, as if protecting a pregnant woman was an enormous waste of his time.

‘Hello? Is anyone down there?’ called a voice. There were footsteps descending the stairs and Dr Jekyll appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh, you are. Thank goodness you’re here.’

Hook stood up. ‘And the question is, why you’re here? Shouldn’t you be in the lab, completing your serum?’

‘That’s just it, I did. And then Hyde found me and destroyed the lab.’

‘But what happened to the serum?’ asked Belle anxiously. 

‘The Dark One took it. Apparently, he has some arrangement with the Evil Queen.’ 

‘Emma’s looking for the Evil Queen,’ Hook realised.

‘Go,’ Belle urged him. ‘Go. We’ll be all right. I’ll call if anything happens.

‘Thank you, Belle,’ said Hook gratefully, before hurrying up the steps.

This left Belle and Jekyll alone together. 

‘So… _you’re_ Belle,’ said Jekyll, looking at her with interest. ‘The, uh, Dark One’s wife.’ 

The intensity of his gaze made Belle feel uncomfortable, so busied herself making tea. ‘I’m, uh… I’m sorry for any harm Hyde caused you.’

‘I appreciate the sentiment. But sentiment won’t bring back Mary.’ 

Belle’s ear pricked up at the familiar name. ‘Mary? Is she someone you loved?’

‘With all my heart,’ said Jekyll, sitting down at the table. ‘Until Hyde destroyed that love.’ 

*

After the confrontation with Emma and Charming, Hyde was running away through the forest. He jumped over a fallen tree and came face-to-face with Rumple, who wasted no time before driving the Dark One dagger in his chest, as he once did to Zoso. They fell to the ground, Rumple gripping the dagger tight, digging it deeper into the man’s heart, twisting it, leaning over Hyde as he gasped for breath, his eyes bulging in pain and shock.

‘So tell me…’ Rumple snarled triumphantly. ‘Was this how you imagined your story playing out?’

‘Actually… yes.’ Hyde dropped the pretence of being in pain. ‘It is.’

Rumple stared in shock. The serum wasn’t working… _Why_ wasn’t the serum working?

‘Quite a… twist, don’t you think?’

Hyde pushed Rumple off him, his inhuman strength sending him flying backwards through the air and smashing into a tree. Hyde stood up and wrenched the dagger loose. He now possessed the Dark One dagger.

‘How?’ said Rumple, staring at the dagger in fear, feeling as though his back was broken from where he’d hit the tree.

Hyde forced Rumple to get to his feet. ‘Jekyll always tries to get the better of me, but he never can. Do you know why?’

Rumple involuntarily shook his head, forced to by the power of the dagger in Hyde’s hand.

‘It’s because he’s all mind, no heart, which makes him a very dull and predictable boy, indeed.’ He pulled out a vial holding red serum.

‘You switched vials.’ 

‘Well, I couldn’t very well let you have it, now could I?’ He shattered the vial against the rocks.

‘What is it you want?’ said Rumple.

‘Oh, I think you know the answer to that. I want to show you the end of our story. And I want to watch you suffer. Now…’ He raised the dagger. ‘Take us to Belle.’ 

Rumple poofs them away and they reappeared on the dock with a clear view of the Jolly Roger.

‘Ahh, here we are,’ said Hyde, admiring the view. 

They watched Belle on the ship, going below deck.

‘Whatever you’re planning, stop,’ Rumple told him. ‘You might control that dagger now, but you won’t always. And I promise you, if you harm Belle –’

‘You don’t need to worry. I won’t harm Belle. You see, there’s one final twist. I am not the monster you need to worry about.’

Rumple stared at him.

*

The tea kettle whistled as it came to the boil and Belle picked it up, carrying it over to the table where Jekyll sat to pour boiling water into his cup.

‘Whatever happened… whatever Hyde did to Mary, I’m sorry,’ said Belle, unable to shake off the inexplicable uncomfortable vibe she was getting from Jekyll. He was supposed to be good guy in their story.

‘If only she’d been strong enough to resist Hyde, she would be mine,’ said Jekyll darkly, more to himself than to Belle. 

‘Yours?’ Belle repeated. That sounded rather possessive. Almost like Gaston.

‘I mean that…’ Jekyll backtracked, ‘we’d – we’d be together.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Belle drew back slowly from the doctor. ‘Oh, let me – let me get some sugar for you.’ 

She replaced the kettle back on the burner and paused, seeing the mermaid conch that Hook gave her next to the sugar bowl. She picked up the shell but Jekyll came up behind her and grabbed her hand.

‘Whoops,’ Jekyll said. ‘You weren’t getting the sugar.’ 

They struggled over the shell before it went flying, Belle just having enough time to yell before the shell broke into pieces on the table – 

‘Rumple, Killian, help!’

Jekyll released her and grabbed his stun baton from his bag, but Belle had lunged for a large piece of the conch shell with the pointy spiral. She drove the spiral into Jekyll’s shoulder. He screamed in agony. Belle ran for it as Jekyll ripped out the spiral. He picked up the baton and pursued her up the stairs.

Belle emerged on the deck where Rumple could see her.

‘Belle!’ Rumple shouted.

‘Rumple!’ Belle called back in relief.

Belle tried to leave the ship but was impeded by the force field Hyde had commanded Rumple to cast. 

‘Rumple! What’re you doing?!’

Hyde raised the dagger high enough for her to see. ‘As he’s told, my dear! He’s cast a protection spell on this barnacle-encrusted heap! Good news is it will prevent me from coming aboard to hurt you, as Rumple promised! Bad news is, it also makes it impossible for you to leave!’

‘Rumple, please!’ Belle begged him, her hands pressed against the barrier. ‘He’s coming! Fight it! Lift the spell!’

‘I can’t!’ Rumple yelled helplessly, his face anguished.

Belle whimpered in fear at him from the ship, looking over her shoulder at her oncoming pursuer.

‘What’s going on? Who’s on the boat with her?’ Rumpled demanded of Hyde.

‘The real villain, of course,’ Hyde replied. 

Realisation flooded him like nausea. And Rumple watched as Jekyll came up on deck, armed with his baton. Belle backed away from him, her hands pressed to her stomach. 

‘No. Get away from me!’ said Belle warningly, even though she knew her words were empty. She had no magic, no weapons, no plan and no way out.

‘I didn’t come all this way to stop now,’ said Jekyll. ‘And now you’re trapped aboard this ship, I can’t _believe_ my good luck. Finally, the chance I needed to make the Dark One pay.’ 

Jekyll charged the baton.

‘But please, she’s got nothing to do with this,’ Rumple pleaded.

‘Neither did Mary,’ said Hyde coldly. 

‘Please, please, please, don’t do this,’ Belle begged Jekyll, almost crying. Nobody was _that_ heartless.

She clutched her stomach tightly. The pendant around her neck sparked. Jekyll fired the baton. Belle impulsively threw up her hands to defend herself, even though she knew it would do no good –

Suddenly the necklace glowed brightly and a bubble barrier of white light appeared around Belle, protecting her from Jekyll.

‘Impossible…’ said Jekyll in disbelief. ‘What science is this?!’

‘It’s not science…’ said Belle staring at the protection spell she had conjured, ‘…it’s _magic_!’

She looked at the necklace, the pearl shining like a star, and then towards Rumple on the docks. Even at a distance she saw his sigh of relief and might have dropped to his knees if he’d had the freewill to do so. Then she realised, this was all Rumple’s doing. He had enchanted her mother’s necklace to keep her safe.

‘What?’ Rumple said to a livid Hyde. ‘You really thought I’d leave my family without a defence? You know, people always try to get the better of me, but they never can. Do you know why?’ Hyde shook his head. ‘It’s because I’m all mind _and_ heart, which makes you _and_ Jekyll very dull and predictable men, indeed.’

‘And pissed off!’ Hyde growled.

In mirrored response to Hyde’s fury, a snarling Jekyll fired the baton again. Belle fought to keep the barrier intact. But it was started to splinter –

‘Jekyll!’

Belle and Jekyll turned. Mrs Weaver stood on the ship.

‘What the hell?’ said Hyde, staring at the sight of _two_ Belle’s on board the Jolly Roger. No doubt he was wondering if she had administered the serum to split herself.

‘You got it wrong, Doctor,’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘I’m the one you want.’

Jekyll looked from one Belle to the other, equally flummoxed. ‘Who the hell are you?’

Mrs Weaver held up her hand, wearing Belle’s wedding ring. ‘ _I’m_ Mrs Gold.’

Rumple’s eye widen in alarm and horror, so did Belle.

‘Belle, _no_!’ Belle screamed. ‘You can’t! It’s me he wants!’

‘So kind of you to shield me, Mrs Weaver,’ said the real Mrs Weaver. ‘But I can’t let you die when you’ve done nothing wrong.’ She addressed Jekyll, ‘Leave, Dr Jekyll. Revenge won’t bring Mary back. You’ll just have to live with what you did.’

‘I did nothing!’ Jekyll shouted.

‘You pushed Mary out of a window and blamed it on Mr Hyde – the man Mary Lydgate _truly_ loved.’

‘She was _mine_! The Dark One created Hyde! Hyde killed her!’

‘You are Hyde. And Hyde is you. Last chance. Leave or I will stop you. You can still do the right thing here.’

Jekyll shot his baton at her. Mrs Weaver closed her eyes, braced for impact. Her gold wedding ring created a cage of white-gold light around her, protecting her as Belle’s necklace was protecting her.

Mrs Weaver looked at her ring, stunned for a moment. Then her eyes filled with tears, a shaky smile of someone whose faith had just been restored spreading across her face, cautious optimism blooming inside her. ‘Rumple…’

‘What is this?!’ Jekyll demanded, staring at these impossible women defying the laws of physics.

‘True love, bitch!’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘And true love never dies. It’s the purest, most powerful magic in the world. The same kind of magic that allows me… to do this.’

She raised her hand, conjuring the Dark One dagger out of Hyde’s hand and into her own. Hyde stared at his empty hand in disbelief and Rumple stared at Mrs Weaver, looking slightly afraid of what she would do with all that power in her hand.

‘Countermand all commands given to you by Mr Hyde and Dr Jekyll,’ Mrs Weaver called.

Free to move again, Rumple punched Hyde in the jaw, causing him to fall against the pile of wooden boxes covered in fish netting, and lowered the protection spell. ‘Belle, go!’

Belle fled, her own barrier spell disappearing as she ran to the side, jumped onto the rail and into the sea with a splash. Jekyll tried to follow her, charging the baton like he wanted to electrify the water, but Rumple stopped him by raising the barrier spell again. Jekyll collided with it hard, making it ripple and reverberate like a gong. He fired his baton at it but it didn’t work anymore than firing it at the power of love.

‘Rumplestiltskin…’ said Mrs Weaver (Rumple held his breath) ‘I release you from this dagger. Your soul is no longer bound to its will. You’re free to decide your own fate.’

The dagger glowed with a blinding white, turning the black blade silver once more and erasing Rumple’s name. Rumple gasped as a white light shone out of him, like the part of him that had been bound to the knife for three hundred years had finally reunited with his soul. The invisible tether that connected him to the dagger was severed. He’s free.

Rumple turned a murderous face to Hyde, free to do all manner of things to him for what he and his other half tried to do to Belle.

‘You still can’t kill me,’ Hyde informed him. ‘This story isn’t over yet. The dagger may no longer control you but it can still kill you. And when I reclaim it, I’ll kill the man who ruined my life.’

‘For once, I agree!’ Jekyll called from the ship. ‘Finish him off!’

‘Let us examine that claim for a moment, shall we, Mr Hyde?’ said Rumple angrily. ‘My magic brought you out of hiding. But who was it that, at the very moment you had everything you wanted in your arms, saw fit to take your dearly beloved all to himself and, in a fit of jealous rage, killed her, and made you a marked man? So whose fault is it _really_ that you became the villain of your story and that the woman you loved is _dead_?’

‘Enough!’ Hyde roared, seizing Rumple by the lapels.

Rumple waited for him to unleash his fury on him. Then –

‘Unfortunately, Dr Jekyll… he’s right!’

Hyde released Rumple and advanced towards Jekyll, who hurriedly aimed his baton at his oncoming better half.

‘It’s a stalemate, Jekyll,’ Mrs Weaver told him. ‘You can’t kill him and he can’t kill you without killing himself. It’s over.’

Jekyll, knowing she was right, lowered the weapon as if it weighed as heavy as his heart and dropped it onto the deck. ‘All right. I give up.’

Suddenly, with a spurt of blood, a sword burst out of his chest. Jekyll gasped, looking down at the sword protruding from his torso, as Hyde, who’d stopped dead when the blade sliced through them, watched from the dock. 

‘That’s quite enough of that,’ said Hook, appearing behind him, having used one of his secret entrances to sneak on board his ship when the shield had come down. 

Hyde started to choke. On the ship, Jekyll started bleeding from the mouth, so did Hyde, before both of them dropped dead. Hook stood there holding his bloody sword.

‘You didn’t even give him a warning!’ Mrs Weaver shouted. ‘You just stabbed him in the back!’

‘Villains like him don’t deserve warnings,’ said Hook, pointing the bloody sword at her. ‘But I will give _you_ a chance to get off my ship before I call sheriff Swan for breeching your restraining order. And take the Crocodile with you. He’s done enough damage.’

Mrs Weaver left, giving Hook a death cold stare. Thanks to him she was going to be spending the afternoon scrubbing another man’s blood off her dress.

At that moment Belle appeared from below decks, sopping wet and carrying her travel bag, making ready to leave.

‘Belle, what’re you doing?’ said Hook, staring at the bag.

‘I can’t stay here,’ said Belle, brushing her wet curls out of her face.

‘Why?’

Belle’s dress was clinging to her, she was shivering from the icy sea and Dr Jekyll’s dead body lay on the deck between them, a pool of dark blood spreading outwards beneath him.

‘I don’t feel safe here,’ Belle told him. ‘And you just killed an unarmed man.’

‘He tried to kill you because of that damn Crocodile!’ Hook retorted. ‘I saved you!’

‘He’d surrendered,’ said Belle coldly. ‘His name’s Rumplestiltskin. And if there’s one thing I can’t condone, including attacking people from behind, it’s having blood shed in my name.’ She shook her head. ‘You never changed, Hook. You’re still the same coward who shot me in the back and continues to use me to hurt Rumplestiltskin.’

And with that, she hoisted her travel bag and disembarked the Jolly Roger forever.

*

Rumple knelt next to Hyde’s corpse.

‘Well… it appears there _was_ one final twist,’ he said.

Regina came out of the nearest building. ‘There you are. Looks like you got what _you_ wanted. Now we know the serum works.’

‘It wasn’t the serum,’ Rumple informed her. ‘Hyde destroyed it.’

Regina looked baffled by this fact. ‘Then how the hell is he dead?’

‘I think we have just discovered the only foolproof way to destroy one’s doppelganger.’ He looked towards the Jolly Roger, where Belle was leaving the ship and Hook stared down at Jekyll’s dead body. ‘By killing the original. 

‘Wait. You’re saying… the way to take out the Evil Queen…’

‘Is to kill you, which seems grim to me any way you slice it. Res ipso loquitur tabula in naufragio, there’s always the other, less bloody way.’

‘How? What’s the other way?’

Her hopeful face was almost painful to witness.

‘Get back together. Embrace all that you are. Make yourself whole again…’ When Regina continued to look blank, Rumple sighed exasperatedly. ‘I mean remerge with your dark side. That’s when this all started and that’s when this will all stop.’’

Regina shook her head firmly. ‘No.’

‘It’ll shorten the war by five years and save millions of lives.’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Watching me suffer.’

Rumple got to his feet and faced his former student. ‘We’re the cause of our own suffering. The Evil Queen _is_ you, Regina. She was always inside you. She was there even before you summoned me. You think she’s pure evil because that’s all she could be. She’s the way she is out of grief of losing the man she loved and being betrayed by the ten year old girl who blabbed about her secret love to the real woman responsible for his death. And you’ve managed to commit murder without her, your supposed _light_ side. Not to mention Emma, even with her potential darkness removed, still became a thief and murdered Cruella de Vil.

‘There are no good or bad versions of ourselves. We make ourselves who we are. And you _could_ be a good person, Regina… if you tried. No Authors, no serums, no magical shortcuts. Don’t take it. Be worthy of it.’

Regina swallowed, looking terrified at the prospect of such a long, hard, gruelling process. ‘What if I fail?’ she asked her former-teacher timidly.

At this, Rumple lost patience. ‘That’s just you all over, isn’t it? Afraid of failing. Always looking for some else to blame. Always looking for the quickest and easiest way to get what you want, because you’re scared. You’re scared if you try and fail, there’s only you to blame. That’s worse than being evil, that’s just being too weak to be good. I didn’t unleash the Evil Queen on the world. You are the one responsible for all this suffering. There are no quick-fixes. It’s all up to you. You want to stop her? You want to be the Good Queen? Then stop wasting everyone’s time, stop blaming me for all your bad life choices, stop being selfish and _pull yourself together_!’

Regina, who once struck fear into the hearts of kingdoms, looked suddenly diminished, like a scolded child, while Rumple glared at her.

‘Make of that what you will,’ said Rumple shortly, turning his back on her and going to make sure his wife and his friend were all right.

*

While this was going on, Mrs Weaver and Belle met on the docks. Belle was still a little shook up from her attack by Jekyll, but luckily her anger that her exact double doing something so stupid and reckless – whilst wearing _her_ wedding ring! – outweighed her feelings of cold and almost being murdered.

‘You could’ve been killed,’ said Belle when Mrs Weaver was near enough to hear her.

‘Well,’ said Mrs Weaver casually, ‘I promised your husband I’d keep you safe. And I had to get Jekyll’s focus off you somehow.’

‘You could’ve been killed!’ Belle shouted angrily. ‘What were you thinking? Pretending to be me! Not only could you have died, you could’ve killed your baby!’ She eyed the golden ring that had protected her. ‘Unless… Did you know your ring would protect you?’

Mrs Weaver moved her wedding ring around her finger. ‘My Rumple made a vow to protect me from all harm. He always took his promises seriously… too seriously, sometimes. He never liked leaving things to chance when it came to protecting the ones he loves most.’

Mrs Weaver held out Belle’s wedding ring that had come loose during the showdown.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Turns out terror sweat is an amazing lubricant.’

‘Do I even want to know how this ended up on your finger?’ asked Belle, her eyes narrowed. She had been waiting for Rumple’s return from the Underworld for him to put it back on her finger. Whatever problems they were having, it still riled her to see it on Mrs Weaver’s finger.

‘Curiosity, pregnant salami fingers and poor judgment. I can put this back in the shop, if you want.’ She looked out at the expanse of open water. ‘Or if you want I can throw this away –’

‘No!’ said Belle quickly, her heart thumping in panic. ‘I mean…’

Belle took the ring back and looked at it for a moment.

At last she said, ‘You set Rumple free.’

‘You didn’t?’ said Mrs Weaver.

Belle shifted restlessly. She couldn’t help feeling she was being judged. Though she couldn’t deny that she was also asking herself: why I didn’t release Rumple from the dagger myself? What if she had done it that day in the shop? Reunited after a year apart, the Wicked Witch defeated – if she had just freed Rumple from its control there and then, maybe none of this would have happened. Rumple would never have sort out the Hat, they would’ve spent their honeymoon in New York, maybe traveled the world, and they would still be together; happily looking forward to the birth of their son.

Now they’ll never know. Now Belle Weaver will forever be known as the one who set Rumple free, not her. She’d stolen her moment.

‘So the haircut was your idea?’ Belle asked.

Mrs Weaver shook her head. ‘No, that was all Rumple. I just repaired the damage.’

‘Right. ’Course you did…’ Belle muttered.

Mrs Weaver raised her eyebrow. ‘Have ever tried to cut your own hair? He did it for you, you know… I probably shouldn’t even tell you this… but I’m pretty much intimidated by you, Mrs Gold.’

‘Me? Why?’

‘Oh, my God, are you kidding? Mr Gold loves you so much and you keep pushing him away. And, believe me, this –’ she gestured between herself and Belle, ‘– is just as weird for me as it is for you, but… I get the feeling that you don’t like me.’

Damn, why did she have to be so nice? ‘Not… _not_ like you. Just…’

‘Just?’

‘…jealous,’ Belle admitted grudgingly.

Mrs Weaver looked astonished by this confession. ‘Jealous of _me_?’

‘Yes.’

‘Technically, Belle, you’re jealous of yourself –’

‘He opens up to you!’ Belle snapped, all her feelings of inadequacy spilling out. ‘He helped out David with no price to be paid later! He’s cutting his hair! Now he’s using _light_ magic!’ She tugged at the chain of her pearl necklace. ‘Of course I’m jealous! For years I’ve been smacking that ketchup bottle and all you had to do was tip it over!’

‘Have you ever considered that’s what the problem is?’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘That rather than smacking the ketchup bottle, all you had to do was gently peel off the seal, instead of getting frustrated and stabbing it with a knife – preferably not one with “Rumplestiltskin” written on it. You’ve put each other on a pedestal and you’re the only one who can’t admit you’re not perfect. Yet you want him to be perfect – your perfect handsome hero.’

‘That’s not true. I never wanted him to be perfect. I just wanted him to try.’

‘He _always_ tries. Why is it never enough for you? Why is he never good enough for you?’

‘He is. It’s just…’

‘What?’

‘It shouldn’t be this hard. True Love shouldn’t be this hard.’

‘If you believe that, perhaps it is possible to read too many novels. Nothing in this world that’s worth having comes easy. True love isn’t how it is in books or on your magic picture boxes. It’s messy! It means arguing and making up and laughing, and crying and struggling, and sometimes it doesn’t seem worth it. But it is. If you want true love, you need to feel everything: the fear, hurt, anger, and sadness, as well as joy and bliss. You’re no different from any other couple. We all wade through the same crap as everybody else, but the big difference is we don’t let it take us down. The couples that make it are the ones that stand up and fight for that relationship every time, if it’s right and they’re really lucky. As long as there’s still one willing to fight for it… At least you’ve still got yours.’

Belle blinked back her tears. Mrs Weaver was right. Perhaps she _had_ read too many books, had built up the idea of love so much in her head that reality could never live up to her expectations. She had always made Rumple work for her love. She had always held it over his head with ultimatums to force him to do the right thing…

_Promise me you won’t kill her… and we can be together._

Even when it came to giving back his agency…

_It’s yours. You’re a free man. Just promise me one thing: promise me you won’t go after Zelena…_

Or how he should use his magic…

_Show me you can be that man. Show me and we can save our child and we can turn the darkness into light…_

It always came with strings attached.

_You want a future with me? You have to do this my way._

And when he did do it her way, she turned her back on him. And when she decided she did want him, it was too late.

Mrs Weaver was right. Belle still had her true love… but Mrs Weaver will never get her love back. ‘He should’ve married you,’ said Belle miserably. ‘I see how happy he is and how good you guys are together. He needs you more than he needs me.’

‘He _does_ need you. _You’re_ his wife – his true love. _You’re_ the one who saw the man behind the beast that everyone else sees first. _You_ make him want to go back to the best version of himself. After losing Baelfire, _you’re_ the only light left in his life. Everything he’s doing is because of _you_. He loses you and the baby, he loses his hope. And hope is a very dangerous thing to lose. That’s when the Godzilla Threshold gets crossed. If he can’t love you, the least he deserves is a friend.’

That was true, Belle thought. With Bae gone, apart from her, who did Rumple really have? What depraved alliances he would’ve been forced to make, what desperate measures he would’ve taken in his do-or-die, increasingly frantic desire not to lose the only family he had left, if Mrs Weaver hadn’t been there, Belle did not like to think.

‘Thank you…’ said Belle gratefully. ‘Thank you for taking care of him.’

Mrs Weaver smiled. ‘Well, we do put the “care” in _care_ taker.’

They laugh nervously.

‘So, what about you and Mr Gold?’

‘It… it’s complicated.’

‘I mean, I guess what it really all comes down to is one… simple question. Do you want him in your life or not?’

Belle stared down at the glittering diamond ring between her fingers. Did she want Rumple in her life or not? When all was said and done, through all the bad, a lot of good came from them being together. Rumple gave her the chance to be a hero and save her village. She got to travel to far off places. She got a best friend and a partner who loved and respected her for who she is; who would move heaven and earth for her, even face down a bear without magic for her. And this baby. And as scared as she was… she was really looking forward to being a mum. And meeting her son.

None of the amazing things that had happened to her would have happened if it wasn’t for Rumple. And he was still here, fighting for her and their baby.

When all was said and done… Belle _did_ want Rumple in her life. And not just for the sake of the baby.

‘How did you get his dagger back?’ Belle wanted to know now. Last time she checked she wasn’t magical.

‘Back in my world, not only am I the Author, I’m also the Guardian – or if we’re being ostentatious: a person incorruptible by evil and willing to sacrifice anything for others. I have the power to lay the darkness to rest. And such powers also allow me to summon the Dark One dagger.’

‘You only released Rumple from control of the dagger. You could have broken his curse completely.’

‘It’s not my destiny, nor my right, to break Mr Gold’s curse. This is _your_ story.’

Belle bit her lip. Would Rumple still want her to be a part of it?

Almost as if she had read Belle’s mind, Mrs Weaver said, ‘He’ll come back to you, Mrs Gold. He always will. When he does, this time, let him in.’

No sooner had she said it, they saw Rumple hurrying towards them along the docks.

‘Good luck,’ Mrs Weaver said to Belle, before going to meet him.

Halfway between the pier and the ship, Rumple and Mrs Weaver merged into an embrace.

‘Well, that’s it,’ said Rumple, rocking her from side to side. ‘I’m wrapping both of you and our babies in bubble wrap.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t dream of speaking for your wife, but I’d have something to say about that.’

Rumple drew back to check her over. ‘Are you okay?’ Mrs Weaver nodded. ‘You sure?’ She nodded again. Rumple hugged her again. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘But everything’s okay. We’re fine.’

‘I was talking to myself,’ said Rumple. ‘I lost Bae. I’m not about to lose anyone else.’

They broke apart. Mrs Weaver handed back the blank now silver again dagger.

‘All these years trying to separate myself from this thing… and all one had to do was command it.’

‘Well all the previous desperate souls became the Dark One out of a desire for power, just as those who coveted the dagger desired to control or exploit that power. It would never have occurred to them that one day someone would take up the mantle out of love. Or that one day that same power would drive someone to want to release them.’

‘Like you and Mr Weaver?’

Mrs Weaver nodded. ‘Love is power. And true love is unbreakable.’

Rumple looked nervously over her shoulder at Belle, who’s waiting nervously for him on the docks.

‘I’ll see you back at the shop,’ said Mrs Weaver, leaving them to talk.

Rumple approached Belle.

‘So,’ said Belle.

‘So,’ said Rumple.

‘Things went a bit…’

‘Of mice and men, yeah.’

An awkward silence fell. Rumple shrugged off his coat and offered it to Belle. ‘Here.’

‘Thank you. I’m fine.’

‘I can hear your teeth rattling from here. And, um… I can see your rose petals.’

Belle looked down at her damp chest and blushed. Bad day not to wear a bra. She took Rumple’s coat gratefully and pulled it on, Rumple trying hard not to look, embarrassed and ashamed when he caught the merest glimpse of them. ‘It’s okay. We are married. You’ve seen them before.’

‘They’re not on offer anymore,’ Rumple mumbled, looking everywhere but at Belle until she was covered up.

Another uncomfortable pause.

‘You cut your hair,’ said Belle in an attempt to break the ice.

‘I did,’ Rumple agreed, running his hand through it.

‘It looks good. Handsome as ever.’

‘Thank you. My first attempt wasn’t very good, though. Sweeney Todd and Barney Thomson could’ve done a better job.’

‘They would’ve killed you,’ Belle reminded him.

‘Exactly,’ said Rumple jokily.

They laughed.

‘You’re making jokes now?’

‘Maybe.’

Belle shook her head but was endeared, just as she was by his joke about spinning helping him to forget.

‘I listened to your tape.’

Rumple swallowed, waiting to hear what she thought.

‘It was beautiful,’ said Belle sincerely. ‘Honestly, it’s the nicest gift anyone’s ever given me. The things you said… I think I listened to it about five times.’

‘I meant every word.’ Rumple’s face turned concerned. ‘Are you all right?’

Belle shrugged helplessly. ‘I’m alive.’

Rumple looked contrite. ‘Belle, I’m so sorry.’

‘It was Hyde. You couldn’t control yourself.’

Rumple shook his head. ‘This wasn’t all Hyde.’

‘What happened between you two, Rumple? Why did you go to Jekyll in the first place? What could possibly be worth all of this?’  
  
‘You,’ said Rumple, his eyes soulful. ‘It was all about you.’ He sighed. ‘I sought him out when you became the maid in my castle all those years ago… because I had begun to have feelings for you… and I thought, at the time, they would make me weak.’

Belle stared at him, trying not to be horrified. ‘A-And you thought what, that Jekyll's serum would rid you of those feelings?’

‘I’d hoped. The night I lost Bae, I vowed that I would love nothing else… But the experiment was a failure. Love and hate, darkness and light – they can never be truly separated. Neither can exist without the other.’ Rumple looked at Belle, his expression open and sincere again as he said, ‘And I’m _glad_ that it didn’t work… because I would never want to lose the love I feel for you. If somehow the gods gave me a second chance at our first meeting… I would do it all over again. Everything we’ve been through… the good, the bad, everything that brought us here… If I knew then how this would end, I’d still choose you.’

Belle smiled. She fiddled with her necklace. ‘My necklace. You enchanted it to keep us safe.’

‘No,’ said Rumple, smiling. ‘It was already enchanted. Imbued by the love your mother, Colette, had for you. And further strengthened by your love for our son.’

‘Mother’s love.’

Rumple nodded. ‘No truer or purer love.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you. It could only be activated on maternal instinct. I didn’t want to put pressure on you.’

Belle snorted. ‘You mean, I might have completely freaked out, big time.’

‘Those are the technical terms, yes. What will you do now?’

‘Well, I’m not staying on the death ship,’ said Belle. ‘I figured I might stay at Granny’s. Emma did say she wouldn’t wish the mattresses on her worst enemy…’

‘I think she’s just still sore about Ms Lucas evicting her for that frame job of Regina’s.’

‘So you approve?’

‘An ex-werewolf with heightened sense of smell, keening hearing and her own crossbow? You couldn’t ask for a better guard dog – no pun intended.’

Belle chuckled.

‘But if that fails?’ Rumple continued, ‘A mother’s love is the strongest shield I can give you.’

Belle looked questioningly. Rumple looked worried.

‘I would never hurt you, Belle. Never. I couldn’t live with myself if I caused you harm. But our son’s said I was going to destroy us. And now with no dagger to restrain me… Whatever happens from here on out, whatever actions lead to that possible future, know that so long as you wear that necklace, you and our son will be protected... Even from me. If this is the way things have to be right now, so be it. But I can’t walk away without knowing you’ll be all right.’

Belle felt the tears coming in her eyes again. Rumple was so open and real… so afraid of what their grown-up son had told them in her dreams would come true that he had given her a defense against him. ‘Well I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll be fine. Thanks to you.’

Rumple nodded, his own eyes full of tears. ‘Goodbye Belle,’ he whispered.

He turned and walked away, looking as dejected and world-weary as the day he’d given her the library, believing it was the last time he was ever going to see her –

‘Wait!’

Rumple stopped and looked back. Belle closed the gap, re-establishing the standing distance between them.

‘I… have my first scan tomorrow.’

‘I’d be more than happy to drop you off,’ said Rumple. ‘If you want…’

‘You could stay…’

‘I’ll wait in the car till you’re finished.’

‘Rumple.’ Belle was exasperated and amused in equal measure that Rumple didn’t recognise the olive branch in the invitation she was extending to him. ‘I’m inviting you to my sonogram to see our son before he grows six feet tall.’

Rumple raised his head, cautiously hopeful. ‘Really?’

‘Will you come with me?’

‘If you want me to.’

Belle nodded. ‘Is that a yes?’

A radiant smile spread across Rumple’s face. ‘I’d like that – very much.’

‘Great.’ Then she worried that he saw this as a green light. ‘Rumple…’

But Rumple held up his hand. ‘No hopes. No expectations. Just being allowed to be part of it is enough. All that matters is our son is healthy.’

Belle relaxed.

‘What time?’

‘7:30?’ Belle suggested.

‘7: _15_ ,’ Rumple promised as if this was the iron-clad mother of all promises.

Belle smiled. Then she reached up and unclipped her necklace.

‘No, Belle, don’t take it off – that’s your protection,’ said Rumple frantically, like he thought she would be attacked the second she removed it.

‘I know.’ She looped her wedding ring through the chain to join her pearl pendant. ‘If you’re anything like Mr Weaver, I think I just doubled my protection, don’t you? Let’s see how things go.’

Rumple smiled. Just seeing that ring on her person again gave him hope. ‘Thank you, Belle. Thank you.’

Rumple left. Belle watched him go. She hugged Rumple’s coat tighter around herself and inhaled his heavenly scent, feeling a bit more hopeful.

Maybe her wish last night did work. Perhaps, at last, the darkest hour was past and the dawn was on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Godzilla Threshold: When circumstances are so dire as to justify the use of any and every destructive, powerful, risky, and morally dubious tactics that might solve it, no matter how reckless, nonsensical, or horrific, regardless of cost, because anything is better than allowing the current problem to continue.
> 
> I took Belle’s hurtful words from ‘Heartless’ and applied it to Regina, whose plans of finding the Author who she blamed for her unhappiness, lopping off her dark side rather than learning to control her compulsions, going all the way back to the time she was going to cast the Curse of the Empty-Hearted by using Snow White’s heart to make Henry love her, is the very definition of “too weak to be good”.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture at the end, as it's a spoiler...
> 
> Because there is no Wish Realm, certain events from 6b will be brought forward.

Belle spat into the toilet and pulled the flush, watching the vomit and her breakfast disappear down the U-bend. She didn’t like to think about the bill she was running on Granny’s porcelain telephone. The last night had been particularly rough. Morning sickness combined with nervous anticipation of seeing the baby since being under the sleeping curse and worrying if whether Rumple was still coming was playing havoc with her digestion.

She checked herself in the mirror. She was wearing a pale blue dress today, which clashed with her glowing face from ten minutes of heaving. She glanced at the clock beside the bed in time to see the time flick to 7:15AM.

Right on cue Belle saw through the window the black Cadillac pull up outside the gate to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. Timed that perfectly.

Belle went out to meet Rumple. He looked at nervous as she felt and was checking his reflection in the sun visor before hurriedly shutting it when he saw her approaching. She noticed he had Baelfire’s shawl draped around his neck, even though the day was mild.

Belle opened the passenger door. ‘7:15. Right on time.’

‘Not an accident,’ said Rumple. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I parked behind the hedgerow for fifteen minutes.’

Belle got into the car slowly and carefully, slightly pale, her hand pressed to her stomach.

‘Are you okay, Belle?’

Belle swallowed back some bile, praying she wasn’t about to be sick in his car. ‘Whoever said morning sickness happens in the mornings – they lied. Or have never pregnant. Or had a uterus,’ she added bitterly.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ said Rumple sympathetically. ‘We can reschedule if you’re not feeling up to it.’

‘No.’ Belle sounded whiny to her own ears. She had been looking forward to this and she didn’t to spoil it for either of them. ‘I wanna see him. Just... please can you drive slowly,’ she pleaded feebly.

‘Of course. In fact…’

Rumple opened the glove box and found amongst the maps, his driver’s license, a flashlight, a Sudoku book and hand sanitizer, an open packet of ginger nut biscuits.

‘Here. Ginger’s said to be good for funny tummies.’

‘There was nothing funny about it.’ Belle took one of the biscuits and took a bite. ‘Thanks.’

They drove off at a steady speed. Belle’s stomach started to settle a little after the ginger nut. Looking across at Rumple, she registered in the rear-view mirror the slight worry crease between his brows and his eyes flicking over at her once or twice.

‘Are you okay?’ Belle asked.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘You’re thinking loudly.’

‘Has he…’ Rumple hesitated, as if wondering whether he wanted to know the answer to the next question. ‘Has our son spoken to you? Since…?’

_Since he told me you were going to destroy our family._

‘No,’ said Belle truthfully.

Obviously the Sands of Morpheus hadn’t hung around in her system. This had disappointed her. She would’ve wanted to talk to their son, especially to find out exactly how Rumple supposed to destroy their family so that she could prevent it instead of avoid it.

‘Not even after yesterday?’ Rumple pressed.

‘No.’

She had almost expected a nightly visitation from their son after her near death experience because of Rumple’s past coming back to haunt him, not to mention having just invited Rumple back into her life, warning her against letting him again.

‘Maybe it was a one-time thing,’ Rumple murmured, unsure whether he was relieved or disappointed by this.

‘Or maybe we’re one step closer to changing the future,’ said Belle.

‘You really believe that?’ said Rumple hopefully.

Belle nodded. ‘I do. One day at a time.’

Rumple smiled.

They stopped at the traffic lights. But for some reason Rumple turned on his indicator, signalling his intent to turn left, instead of straight on towards the hospital.

‘Listen,’ he said, no longer smiling. ‘Would you mind if we make a stop on the way? There’s something I have to take care of.’

‘What’re you doing?’ asked Belle curiously.

Rumple pulled a small phial out of his suit pocket. Belle recognised the ghostly green liquid within. ‘The next right thing… Fixing a mistake.’

They drove to the cemetery and parked in exactly the same spot they had pulled up on their honeymoon, facing Neal Cassidy’s grave.

‘Visiting Baelfire?’ said Belle.

‘Not exactly,’ said Rumple. ‘Though we will need his help.’

They got out and walk to his son’s grave. Rumple pulled off Bae’s shawl from around his neck and handed it to Belle.

‘Can you hold this out, please, Belle?’ Rumple requested.

Belle held out the shawl and Rumple poured the greenish liquid onto it as he had once poured his protection spell. He even tossed away the empty vial carelessly to one side. The shawl glowed green, the lights of the lost soul circling around it. Then Rumple took the shawl and twisted it, wringing it out, so that the liquid trickled on Baelfire’s grave.

Belle didn’t know what was going on, but she hoped that no hands was about to burst out of the earth. Surely Rumple wouldn’t do that to his boy.

For a moment nothing happened. Then the green lights spread out across Bae’s grave, inside and outside, before congregating into a puddle in the middle. Belle gasped and stepped back as a ghostly hand burst out of the water. Rumple, however, seized the hand, which gripped his arm and proceeded to pull.

A dark haired woman with cold blue eyes and wearing a denim jacket emerged from the water, gasping and coughing, staring in a blind panic at her new surroundings, the bright daylight blinding her and adding to her disorientation.

‘Milah!’ Rumple shouted to get her attention. ‘Milah!’

Milah’s eyes found him and recognition and shock dawned in them, the memories flooding back. Then Rumple felt a powerful tug and Milah was almost pulled back into the River’s depths and she let out a terrified shriek.

‘Come on! The magic won’t last long! Pull yourself out!’ He looked around desperately at Belle. ‘Belle, help me!’

Belle hurried forwards and seized Rumple’s ex-wife’s other hand. She was as cold as death. Together and with Milah’s help, they extracted her from the River of Lost Souls.

Milah staggered away from them, getting herself together. She caressed her arms, chest and face, checking she was really here. She looked up at the bright blue sky above her. She had almost forgotten the colour after so long under the blood red sky of the Underworld.

She turned round to face her saviours. The woman, Belle – Rumplestiltskin’s wife – and her ex-husband himself. He looked pained and anguished, just as he had looked before he had dunked her.

‘I won’t ask for your forgiveness,’ said Rumple. ‘What I did to you was wrong? But I hope you’ll accept my apology.’

Milah didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely.

Her forgiveness seemed to have done it. A blinding light shone behind her and a stone bridge appeared and stopped at her feet. Olympus lay beyond. And beyond that…

‘Go on,’ Rumple encouraged her. Milah looked back. He smiled at her. ‘Baelfire’s waiting.’

‘What if he won’t forgive me?’ asked Milah anxiously.

‘He will. He forgave me… he’ll forgive you.’

Milah nodded. Then as she stepped onto the bridge she turned to look at Belle. she smirked. ‘Give him hell, Belle. He’ll always need it.’

Belle had never been a Milah fan, but she smiled and nodded.

And to Rumple, Milah said, ‘I’ll tell our son his papa said hello.’

Rumple nodded, looking grateful. They watched his ex-wife ascend the bridge into the next life. As she disappeared into the light, the bridge disappeared and the light became the sun.

Belle glanced at Rumple, looking as if a cloud had passed across his face.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘This is exactly what I needed to do,’ said Rumple dully, ‘and yet I don’t feel any better.’

‘Yeah, it’s not magic,’ Belle agreed. ‘It’s not going to change right away.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘But it begins to feel less heavy. It’s a start.’

Rumple exhaled heavily. Then he nodded. ‘It’s a start,’ he echoed. ‘We should go.’

‘You sure you don’t need a minute?’

‘No. I’ve delayed us long enough. Thank you for helping me.’

‘You’re welcome. So that was Milah?

‘It was…’

They got back into the Cadillac and drove away, heading for the hospital. The last of the River’s waters lay in a puddle on Baelfire’s grave.

*

They arrived at the hospital car park with ten minutes to spare. Rumple switched off the engine and Belle unclicked her seatbelt.

‘You can still change your mind,’ said Rumple. ‘I can still wait here.’

‘I want you there…’ Belle told him. ‘I need you there.’

Rumple and Belle got out and entered the hospital.

Belle signed in at the nurse’s desk and sat down in the waiting area while Rumple went to get her a tea from the machine. Nearby, Snow had just finished a conversation with Charming and as he walked away, she spotted her. 

‘Belle!’ said Snow in greeting, coming over to join her. ‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘Snow, hi,’ said Belle. ‘I’m… getting my first ultrasound.’ 

‘Wow. That’s so exciting!’

‘Yeah.’

‘You didn’t invite Rumplestiltskin?’ asked Snow, seeing she was sitting alone.

‘Actually –’ Belle began.

‘Well, given what he’s put you through, I don’t think anyone would blame you,’ said Snow as if she thought Belle was being very sensible. 

‘Blame her for what?’

Rumple had returned, carrying two cups of tea.

‘What’re you doing here?’ said Snow, her green eyes glaring threateningly.

‘I’m here to see our baby’s sonogram.’

‘Why?’

‘I was invited.’

‘Why?’

‘I think she wants me to take a look.’

‘Well you know what I think, don’t you.’

‘I know what _everyone_ thinks, Mrs Nolan.’

‘Snow, it’s okay,’ said Belle hastily. ‘I invited Rumple.’

‘And I’ve given my wife plenty of opportunity to rescind her invitation,’ said Rumple.

‘He has,’ Belle confirmed.

‘Mrs Gold?’ called Dr Pond from her office door. ‘Belle Gold?’

‘Oh! Yes – I’m here!’

‘I’m Dr Lily Pond. Please come in.’

Leaving Snow sitting in the waiting area, Rumple and Belle entered Dr Pond’s room.

‘Good morning, Mr Gold,’ said Dr Pond, shaking Rumple’s hand.

‘Good to see you again, Doctor,’ said Rumple.

Belle settled herself on the examining table and Rumple took a seat next to her.

‘Take a seat, Belle. How are we feeling today?’

‘Better than I was last night,’ Belle admitted.

‘Ah, night-time morning sickness. I’m sorry. It will pass, don’t worry.’ Dr Pond made some notes on Belle’s chart. ‘Otherwise any other problems?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘Excellent.’

Dr Pond pulled the ultrasound machine towards her and put some gel on Belle’s stomach. Belle flinched a little as the cool gel made contact with her skin and Rumple started, half rising from his seat.

‘It’s ok,’ said Belle quickly. ‘It’s just a bit cold.’

Dr Pond ran the wand on Belle’s stomach. An black and grey image appeared on the screen.

‘There it is,’ said Dr Pond, pointing at in indistinct blob. ‘Heartbeat strong. Absolutely perfect. Makes it all seem real now, doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Rumple and Belle together, entranced by the image of their baby.

‘That’s our son, Rumple,’ Belle whispered, hungrily taking in the grey blob that was her baby.

‘He’s so small,’ said Rumple, looking as if he had never seen anything so awe-inspiring.

‘He won’t be small for long.’

Rumple chuckled. ‘The miracle of creation... We made him.’

‘We did.’

‘Okay, that’s recorded,’ said Dr Pond, clicking some buttons. ‘I’ll just set you up with a picture and a DVD.’

But just as Dr Pond started to move the wand away –

‘Wait!’ said Rumple suddenly, making both women jump.

‘Mr Gold?’

Rumple pointed at the screen. He motioned with his finger. ‘Go… go back to the right a second.’

‘Rumple, what is it?’ said Belle nervously. Did their son have three legs? Two heads? A small 666 on its little forehead?

‘I thought I saw… There!’

Dr Pond stopped the wand. There on the screen were not just one, but _two_ images. Dr Pond put on her glasses.

‘Is that…?’ said Rumple in a hushed voice.

‘A double Gold bun,’ Dr Pond confirmed, removing her glasses. ‘It would appear that you are twice blessed. Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Gold. It seems you are having twins.’

Belle’s eyes widened in shock. ‘What? _Twins_? _Two_ babies?’

‘Usually, yeah,’ said Rumple.

Belle couldn’t believe this. She looked round at Rumple. ‘Did you know?’

‘No.’ Rumple looked at Belle. ‘And our son didn’t tell you?’

‘No.’

‘Pardon?’ said Dr Pond puzzled by this exchange.

Neither of them answered. Belle looked dumbfounded at the screen and the two small blobs.

‘This is… good, isn’t it?’ said Rumple tentatively.

Her flat mouth and big eyes of shock were not an obvious ‘good’ yet.  
  
He glanced at the screen. ‘I mean, from where I’m sitting… it looks good. Doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah…’ Belle finally tore her eyes away to look at Rumple. ‘Oh my gods. It’s brilliant!’

Their faces split into smiles, Rumple looking relieved.

‘Congratulations,’ said Dr Pond. ‘I’ll be right back.’

She left, closing the door behind her.

‘Look at them,’ said Belle, watching the two blobs shimmer and wriggle, her face puzzled but very happy. ‘Twin boys.’

‘Or a boy _and_ a girl,’ said Rumple. ‘Imagine: a little mini me and you running around.’

Belle laughed. She reached out blindly and seized Rumple’s hand. They watched their babies on the monitor for a few minutes before Belle moved on to the next order of business. ‘What do you fancy, a boy or a girl?’

‘I don’t know, it doesn’t matter,’ said Rumple, feeling giddy, drunk with happily. He considered for a moment. ‘I suppose… I have had the fantasy of a daughter. Break the line of Stiltskin sons. What about you? Did you ever have a preference about your firstborn child? A little prince or princess.’

‘I kind of like the idea of having one of each. What about names? Any thoughts?’

‘Whatever you think best,’ said Rumple kindly. But his eyes looked sad.

‘You must have some ideas,’ Belle insisted.

‘Maybe…’

‘Well…?’

‘I’m sure you’ll pick a good strong name.’

‘You don’t believe I’ll take your suggestions into consideration,’ Belle realised.

‘You have been acting as though you’re the sole parent in our baby’s life. I didn’t think you’d allow me to come to the sonogram let alone listen to name suggestions. I’ll be lucky if I get to be present at the birth. It was different with Baelfire; I was a way at the front. But after what happened I doubt Milah would have wanted to hear any of my ideas. Why should she reward my cowardice?’

Well, Belle thought, he did promise her no hopes or expectations. But he seemed to have convinced himself that was because there was no hope. She couldn’t blame him after she had broken his heart at the wishing well. He had heard her voice while he was in a coma telling him to hold on and believed it was because she still loved him, she had hugged him for a whole minute after he had rescued her from Merida, had told him ‘it’s never too late’, and rounded off the whole fiasco by showing up at the well when Rumple had told her not to if she didn’t want to be with him.

‘Well I’d like to hear them,’ Belle told him. ‘If it’s a girl?’

Rumple thought. ‘Lizzie… Jo… Matilda… Hermione…’

Belle snorted recognising the names of strong fiction female characters who loved to read and Rumple joined in.

‘Matilda – Tilly.’

‘Those are good. And if it’s a boy?’

‘Well the Charmings took Neal.’

‘You can still use Cassidy. Or Cass if it’s a girl.’

‘Maybe not. These days we only seem to name the next generation after people who’ve died – Henry, Daniel, Neal, Robyn. Snow White was even going to name her son Leopold at one point. I think Alexandra Herman and Ellie Weaver are the only exceptions.’

‘Well, what about your name? What was Mr Gold’s first name?’

‘Barbara,’ Rumple quipped.

‘Rumple,’ said Belle in a ‘be serious’ sort of voice.

‘He never had a first name! That’s the point. “Mr Gold” is more mysterious.’

‘I’ve actually tried to guess your curse name.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Rumple intrigued. ‘Go on? Scrooge? Charles Montgomery? Lucius? Christian? Smaug?’

‘Grant,’ said Belle.

‘As in Mitchell? I didn’t cut my hair that short.’

‘As in taken for _grant_ ed. Always coming to you for your help and very rarely reciprocating. It’s no wonder you always have an I.O.U attached.’

‘Well, anyone who tries to mooch off our children does so at their peril.’

Belle gave him a look.

‘I’m just saying; champagne for their real friends. And real pain for their sham friends.’

Belle rolled her eyes, but shook her head in amusement. ‘Rumplestiltskin junior? Or Rumpellestiltskin junior.’

‘Belle, why do you hate our child?’

‘What’s wrong with Rumplestiltskin? It’s a little archaic, but it’s a good name.’

‘Peter Pan gave me the most hateful name he could think of because he blamed me for my mother leaving us. I would never do such a thing to my son. One Rumplestiltskin, masculine or feminine, is enough to hate in this world.’

‘Or else… I did like the idea of naming him after the Hero of _Her Handsome Hero_ … Gideon.’

‘Gideon Gold? Very alliterative.’

‘You don’t like it.’

‘No, no, I didn’t say that. Gideon the Hero was your first role model. I just worry that our son will feel pressured to live up to his namesake – especially in a family of heroes.’

‘But you have one in mind?’

‘Charlie… It means “free man”. He can be whatever he wants to be and will always have our love and support.’

Belle nodded. She liked it. ‘Charlie… Charlie Gideon.’

‘A fair compromise.’

‘Matilda… Matilda Jane. Tilly or MJ for short.’

‘Charlie and Tilly.’

‘Our children.’

Rumple stroked Belle’s stomach. ‘I can’t wait to meet them.’

*

They emerged from the doctor’s room, Belle holding a DVD recording of her sonogram and two sonogram pictures – standard procedure. She could see the longing in Rumple’s eyes as he gazed at the brown envelope and knew he was biting his tongue to stop himself asking her if he could have the second copy.

‘Can I drop you anywhere?’ Rumple asked her.

‘The library would be nice,’ said Belle, thinking all her books must be dusty by now. ‘I’ve been neglecting my duties as librarian.’

‘What did the doctor say?’ asked Snow, who was adding baby’s breath to a flower arrangement close by.

‘Oh, I’m, uh… I’m good,’ said Belle. ‘Everything looks normal. So far, anyway.’ Belle laughed nervously.

‘But?’ Snow prompted.

‘No but.’

‘Belle, what happened?’

‘We… found something we weren’t expecting.’

‘Would you like to see the new additions to our dear family?’ inquired Rumple.

Snow stared at him. ‘Additions? Plural?’

Rumple smiled and Belle glowed with pride, showing Snow the sonogram, ‘We’re having twins.’

Snow gasped and cooed over the picture. ‘Oh sweet… Congratulations.’

‘Thank you,’ said Belle.

‘But if you’re having twins,’ said Snow, giving back the sonogram, ‘why didn’t you see them both in the Dreamworld?’

That was a good point.

‘I guess when I sprinkled the sands I missed the other one,’ said Rumple.

‘Shame you didn’t have more. Well, I better get back to my rounds. Congratulations again.’

By the time they were back in the Cadillac and belted up, Belle said aloud, ‘It is a shame.’

‘What is?’ asked Rumple, starting up the engine.

‘Now I know we’re having twins… I kinda wish we got to see them both together.’

‘I thought most expectant mothers wanted to wait till the birth.’

Belle shook her head. ‘Doesn’t matter. No sands, no sneak peeks.’

Rumple licked his lips nervously. ‘Would you like to see them?’

Belle saw Rumple conjure a bottle into his hand. It was full of grains golden sand.

‘You brought the Sands of Morpheus back with you?’ said Belle, not sure why she sounded so surprised. He had brought a sample of the River of Lost Souls back with him and had kept hold of Robin Hood’s magic bow, believing it would come in handy someday.

‘I did.’

‘Why?’

‘For a rainy day.’

*

The waters from the River of Lost Souls still glistened in a small pool, rippling slightly on the breeze, reflecting: _Neal Cassidy, Beloved Son_. Until a shadow passed over it, the Evil Queen’s face smiled back on its mirrored surface. A smile of ill-intention for her enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie after Charlie Pace from LOST. Gideon after Her Handsome Hero (because they would have discussed it as a couple).
> 
> Matilda after Roahl Dahl’s Matilda Wormwood. And Jane after Jane Porter from Disney’s Tarzan, who had the tea set from Beauty and the Beast, and considered to be a descendant of Prince Adam/Beast and Belle. 
> 
> Lizzie = Elizabeth “Lizzie” Bennet, Pride & Prejudice  
> Jo = Jo March, Little Women  
> Hermione = Hermione Granger, Harry Potter 1-7
> 
> Scrooge = Scrooge McDuck, Mickey's Christmas Carol  
> Charles Montgomery = C. Montgomery Burns, The Simpsons  
> Lucius = Lucius Malfoy, Harry Potter 1-7  
> Christian = Christian Grey, Fifty Shades of Grey  
> Smaug = Smaug the Dragon, The Hobbit
> 
> Barbara = because who can forget Robert Carlyle confirming when asked what Mr Gold's first name was? Babs Gold 
> 
> marahutecorner.tumblr.com/post/163294804945/onceabc-robertcarlyle-speculates-that-mr & 0ceanofdarkness.tumblr.com/post/163296109220/violetfaust-applejackcat-thatravenclawbitch#notes


	7. Chapter 7

In Belle’s apartment above the library, Rumple and Belle settled fully clothed on top of her bed. Mrs Weaver was there to look after them while they were under.

‘So, how does this work?’ asked Belle nervously, eying the golden sands with some apprehension. ‘I was out of it when you did it last time.’

Amazing how she would willingly prick her finger with a needle imbued with a curse of eternal sleep, and yet she was wary of a handful of magic sand that would only put her to sleep for an hour.

‘Mrs Weaver will sprinkle the sands on your abdomen and then throw the rest over us both,’ Rumple explained. ‘That way we meet in the twins dream realm together,’

‘It doesn’t hurt?’

‘Not at all. It’s just like falling asleep. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It was just an idea.’

Belle looked to Mrs Weaver. ‘You’ll watch over us while we’re away?’

‘On my honour,’ Mrs Weaver assured her.

‘Okay.’ Belle lay down and Rumple imitated her. ‘See you in a minute, then.’

‘Sweet dreams,’ said Rumple, turning to look up at the ceiling.

Mrs Weaver poured the sands into her hand. She sprinkled them over Belle stomach, ensuring she covered every inch, throwing the last of it over Rumple and Belle’s faces. Their vision filled with glittering golden sand. The bedroom disappeared around them as their heavy eyelids slid closed, the feeling of their heads falling sideways the last thing they remembered as they drifted into deep sleep, Belle’s head resting on Rumple’s shoulder and Rumple’s resting lightly against her head…

…Rumple blinked his eyes open, staring up at the canopy of trees above him, its branches swaying in the breeze. He was lying on the forest floor, Belle beside him.

Belle turned her head to look at him. ‘Are we here?’

‘I believe so.’

Rumple got to his feet and helped Belle to stand.

‘Come on.’

Belle looked around as they walked, marvelling at the realism of it all. This felt no different than being awake. ‘So this is the dream realm? Thought there’d be like flying pigs or talking donuts, or something.’

‘Well, as long as we don’t meet any mad axe-men, I can take whatever abstract manifestation from our subconscious comes our way.’

‘We can’t _die_ in the dreamworld, can we?’ asked Belle in alarm, now looking over her shoulder for mad axemen.

‘If we die in the dream, we’ll wake up in reality. Healthy recovery in next to no time. Ask what happens if you die in reality?

‘What happens?’

‘You die. That’s why it’s called reality.’

‘All right,’ said Belle annoyed.

‘Apologies. We’ll be fine.’

Belle searched about her but there was no sign of anyone but them. ‘Where are our children? Isn’t this their dream?’

‘It’s not that simple. Dreams are a maze.’

‘But our son was waiting for you when you arrived? Where are they?’

They heard a mysterious sound on the air, and saw a small cabin up ahead. They entered the cabin where they found nothing but an empty crib. It was rocking by itself. Rumple touched it to stop its motion, then almost immediately recoiled from it. 

_‘I cried and called my sweet bairn’s name, but never saw sweet baby again…’_

‘What is this place?’ said Belle. The voice, despite the sweetness of the lullaby, felt sinister. 

‘I was born here,’ said Rumple. ‘Not that it was ever much of a home, after my mother left.’ 

‘This isn’t the twins dream, is it?’ said Belle. ‘It’s yours.’ 

‘It would seem so. If you don’t mind, I’ve, uh… I’ve spent enough time here already. It may well be my dream, but our children are still in here somewhere, and I intend to find them.’

Without waiting for Belle to protest, Rumple departed the cabin. When Belle caught up with him she found him staring at a baby bassinet on the ground that hadn’t been there before. There’s was a gold blanket in it.

Rumple’s bassinet and baby blanket.

‘Want to tell me about your mother? Why were we just in her house?’

‘It’s a figment of my subconscious. It doesn’t matter,’ said Rumple shortly, unable to take his eyes off his cot.

‘I think it does. Emma was an orphan too.’

‘Doesn’t mean we share the same story.’

‘She told me how this goes. One moment you hate your parents, the next you miss them. It’s a roller coaster.’

‘Trust me, Belle, for me it’s far less complicated: my parents didn’t love me. Remember my father spirited away children and tried to kill you, Bae and Henry because he wanted to remain a youthful little shit forever.’

‘And your mother steals babies from their mother’s arms to do whatever sinister things she does to them,’ Belle insisted. ‘If this is all her trying to take our babies I just need to know that when we go to defeat her that you’re really on my side.’

Rumple looked at Belle as if he had never been more shocked and offended.

‘Are you serious?’ he said in a dangerous whisper.

He hadn’t sided with his father. Not in life, not in death. And would _never_ side with his mother, not matter what she offered him.

‘Do you really think that was a fond memory, being back in that house? Have you forgotten what she said to me when I asked why she abandoned me? That woman never cared for me, never loved me, never did one thing a mother should. She never even gave me a name. If the Black Fairy really is behind all this; rest assured when we defeat her, I won’t shed a single tear. So please, don’t assume I’m that gullible to believe she wants a second chance to be my mother, nor am my loyalties so easily bought. I just want to find my children.’

‘I think you already have,’ said a voice.

Rumple and Belle turned around and stared at the young woman standing behind them.

‘Well, one of us, anyway.’

Rumple stared, his heart giving a joyful bound. She was the image of her beautiful mother; brown hair and bright intelligent blue eyes, with her father’s high cheekbones. And she spoke with a clear, articulate voice, full of conviction; even if right now she looked nervous and expectant; rubbing the ring finger of her left hand, the same way Rumple always rubbed his ring finger when he was feeling self-conscious.

In unison, both Rumple and his daughter took a step forward towards each other. They met in the middle of the distance between them, and hugged. They drew back to get a proper look at each her. Rumple never thought he could see so much love in her eyes for her father as much he had for her.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Rumple whispered, framing her pretty face in his hands, ‘just like your mother,’ he added, looking round at Belle with a smile.

Tilly looked hungrily into her father’s face, tracing it delicately with her fingers, as if moulding him out of a lump of clay, and stroking his short hair.

‘What’re you doing?’ Rumple asked, a bemused and amused smile on his face, remembering how baby Bae used to pat his face with his little hands. ‘Are you trying to memorize me by heart?’

‘No...’ said Tilly softly. ‘I already know you by heart. You are inside my heart. I’ve just never seen you like this.’

‘Like what, sweetheart?’

‘With short hair. All your pictures you had long hair.’

‘My… pictures?’ A chill ran through him. ‘H-have I gone bald in the future?’ he asked.

Rumple could take being bald, flabby, toothless and gone to seed, he could even handle being lame or incontinent, but not this. The way his daughter was looking at him… it was as if this was the first time in her life she was meeting her father.

Tilly shook her head sadly.

‘What is it, Tilly?’ asked Belle. ‘Where’s your father? Where’s Rumple?’

Tilly opened her mouth, trying desperately to find the words, but no sound came out.

‘Never mind,’ said Rumple, his throat tight, a horrible certainty sending his heart dropping to his feet and through the earth. ‘If it takes that long to work out a way to say it, I already know... We’re lost.’

Tears of dismay fell down Tilly’s face, bound by an invisible force preventing her from speaking. Rumple tried to smile and wiped them tenderly away.

‘At least I got to see you,’ he told her. ‘I know you’ll make your papa proud, whatever you become.’

Then before either Belle or Tilly could stop him, Rumple kissed his daughter’s forehead and disappeared into thin air as true love’s kiss woke him.

‘Rumple!’ Belle called, even though she knew it was pointless.

What did this mean? She looked to Tilly so some explanation which she had yet to give. If Rumple wasn’t part of their future, what had happened to him? What was _going_ to happen to him?

‘Tilly –’

But Tilly shook her head again, firmly this time. ‘No time to explain. You need to find Papa.’

Tilly kissed her mother on the forehead –

Belle woke with a gasp and sat up. Rumple was gone, the dent still visible in her bedsheets. Mrs Weaver was rummaging desperately in her drawstring purse, looking for something.

‘Where’s Rumple?’ Belle asked her.

‘He just poofed off,’ said Mrs Weaver, frantically pulling out the sleeves of clothes, a jar of jam, the spines of books and, bizarrely, a sextant, before shoving them back into the depths of the purse.

At last she found what she had been looking for: a black rider’s glove with gold embroidery.

‘Here.’

Mrs Weaver pressed the lone glove into Belle’s hands.

‘Thank you,’ said Belle. ‘Er – don’t gloves come in pairs? And what am I supposed to do with it?’

‘Put it on your head,’ said Mrs Weaver sarcastically. ‘It’s a magic glove. Put it on and it will transport you wherever you wish to go. Wherever Rumple’s gone, it will take you to him. Whatever happened in there, Rumple can’t be on his own with only the Dark One whispering in his ear. He needs you. He needs to know he’s not alone.’

Belle nodded. She pulled on the glove, whose long sleeve nearly reached her elbow, closed her eyes and concentrated on her dearest wish to be at Rumple’s side. When she opened them again she was back in the cemetery, near Baelfire’s grave. But Rumple was nowhere in sight.

Then she heard a muffled sob.

Somewhere to the side of Bae’s gravestone, Rumple knelt invisible, crying. Belle knelt on the other side of the grave. She stared at the patch of air where his face should be and saw a tear like a raindrop on a window sliding down his concealed cheek. She reached up and, very gently, touched his cold face and wiped the tear away with her thumb.

Her touch lifted the disillusionment charm and Rumple shimmered into being, his face wet and his shoulders shaking. He lifted his stinging eyes, gulping himself into silence and wiped his streaming nose with the sleeve of his Dolce and Gabbana suit.

When he felt able to speak again without breaking down, Rumple mumbled, ‘You’ll ruin your dress.’

‘What about your suit?’ Belle couldn’t care less about grass stains on her dress as Rumple didn’t seem to care about mud or mucus on his expensive suit.

‘Why did I think I could change anything?’ said Rumple rhetorically. ‘If it’s not our son warning you against me, it’s our daughter telling me that I’m not going to be there to see them grow. Why did I ever believe I deserve to be happy? No use pretending. We knew the ending a long time ago. My ending shall not be a happy one…’ he murmured, repeating the words he had once told Belle back in the Dark Castle during his son’s remembrance.

‘Meaning?’ said Belle.

Rumple ran his hand over the top of his son’s grave, beneath which his son slept. Never to wake. ‘It means I should be under the earth, not Bae. It means I’ve been living on borrowed time for months. It means I’m going to die.’

‘How did you come to that conclusion?’

‘“You are inside my heart”. The only father she’ll know is a picture in frame. The universe has a way of course correcting. If I didn’t die from the dreamshade, I would’ve by stabbing myself with the dagger. And if I survived that – or was brought back from that – then I would’ve drowned in darkness as it destroyed the love in my heart. Getting mauled by a bear. Turning to dust if I was unworthy to pull Excalibur from the stone or getting run through. Shot by soul-ripping arrows. Or be killed some other way. I was supposed to die. That’s my path. Not because I choose to, but because I’m supposed to.’

‘Only if you let it. You can choose what you want.’

‘I may not like my path, Belle, but dying as I live; to ensure the Happy Endings of others, is the only truly great thing that I will ever do. To save my family, I have to leave it. I have to die. For good this time.’ He rattled off the findings in a dull voice.

Belle sighed. The voice of the Dark One really knew how to get inside Rumple’s head. Well, not this time. ‘Is that what she _said_ or what you _heard_?’

Try as he might, Rumple couldn’t see the difference. ‘What?’

‘Did our daughter say that you died? Did she say those words?’

Rumple remained silent. Belle adjusted herself more comfortably on the grass, removing her hand from his cheek to place it on his thigh, Rumple too ashamed to meet his wife’s eyes. No, Tilly hadn’t said that the reason he wasn’t there was because he died, but he still wasn’t there for them. Belle was being so nice to him, and he didn’t deserve any of her kindness, not when he was a lost cause, as was any hope of the four of them being a family, together.

‘Rumple, I know you’re scared, you’re confused, you don’t understand – neither to do I – but we’ve got to keep our heads. This is where we make mistakes. Reacting… Acting out of fear... Not talking to each other… We don’t know anything yet. Even if what you say is true, we can’t resign ourselves to the worse based upon a dream.’

‘You did.’

The words came from him before he could stop himself. Belle had believed the dream version of the man claiming to be their son warning her that Rumple would destroy them without question. He ducked his head, as if expecting Belle to hit him for that remark. But she didn’t.

‘You’re right,’ said Belle quietly. ‘It gave me the perfect excuse to cut a run without making me look like a coward or a failure or a bitch.’

The self-bitterness in her use of the last word made Rumple look up in surprise.

‘You were protecting our child,’ said Rumple. ‘I know the Darkness scares you. I know that I scare you.’

‘I’m not afraid of you, Rumple,’ said Belle. ‘Not in the way you think. You were right. I did fall in love you because there was a man and a beast. I fell in love with you when you were the Dark One. What little fear I did have for you ended when you didn’t get mad at me for chipping your teacup.’

‘Then why have you been so worried? Worried about the Dark One, so determined to turn the darkness into light, so afraid about exposing our unborn child to that part of me you claim to love as well as the good part. “I love him. All of him… even the parts that belong to the darkness”.’

Belle didn’t ask how Rumple knew what she had told Neal. Having his dying son’s mind inside his own head must have privy some access to his memories, and vice versa.

‘I wasn’t afraid of _you_. I was afraid of _losing_ you. That all this will take over and you’d forget about all this; about the shop, about Baelfire, the baby… and that you’d forget about me.’

Rumple went pale at the very thought of forgetting the mother of his children, his true love. ‘I could never forget about you, Belle. If I lose you, I lose everything. I’m not making excuses for my past behaviour, for what I was like; I know I lost my grip after everything that happened with Zelena… losing Bae… wanting to use the Hat to cleave myself from the dagger, make me never feel powerless again… But know that it was never about power for powers sake. I like the power, but I don’t love it. You’re my strength, Belle. That’s why the gauntlet would never have pointed to you. It may not always seem apparent at the time, but everything I do is for you. To keep you safe. As misguided and questionable as my actions have been, it comes from love. My love for our child _and_ you. To provide and to protect you all.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever give it up?’ Belle asked.

She saw the panic in Rumple’s eyes and could almost hear his thoughts going on behind them: _What do I do? What do I say? If I say no will she walk away? If I say yes will she make me do it now to prove it? What if it doesn’t work because her love isn’t as strong as it was thirty years ago? What if it doesn’t work because magic is different here, but she’ll think it’s because I’m holding back? What would I be without my power?_

‘This isn’t an if-you-don’t-I’m-leaving-you question,’ said Belle, quelling his anxiety before he had a panic attack. ‘This isn’t an ultimatum or deal-breaker. Don’t you ever dream of living a mortal life? Growing old together? Dying peacefully in our bed? Do you see yourself one day laying the darkness to rest for good? Honestly?’

Rumple considered carefully. For a man who spent centuries planning the future to ensure he would one day be reunited with his son, it was clear he had never looked that far ahead. Rumple pulled the Kris dagger out of his breast pocket and held at it in his hands, his expression one of shame and faint disgust as he stared at the blackened blade and at his name engraved in silver upon it.

‘This dagger has been a burden to me for so long. I couldn’t save my son or the children of the Frontlands without it. And yet I’m a slave to its power; to the voice or whoever holds the dagger in their hand. If Regina hadn’t made you forget her stealing your heart, you’d understand how it feels to have someone having power over what you do, what you say, who literally holds your life in their hands.’

If Regina hadn’t made Belle forget his confession at the wishing well, they would’ve been reunited sooner and maybe could’ve prevented everything that followed afterwards.

‘I hate that it can control me, I hate the constant whispering inside my head telling me I’m evil, that I’m worthless, and that it tried to take away my ability to love so it could use me for its own dark desires. I hate that I’m dependent on it. I’ve lived with this toxic, oppressive entity for so long, and yet I don’t feel safe without it. I’m trapped.’

‘No, you’re not. You are not an indentured servant. I know this sounds impossible, but you do have a choice. You don’t have to let the curse keep your mind, your heart, your soul locked in a cage. You can set yourself free.’

‘I meant what I said when I got back from Neverland, Belle; the only path I’m interested in is the one where you and I are together. Had things been different, I would have willingly given it up one day. I’d found Bae, I had you, I even thought the Charmings saw me as family in that moment – I wouldn’t have needed it anymore, because I had everything I ever wanted. Family… true love… happiness…

‘All I want is a life with you, Belle. My one and only wish is to live a singular, natural life with you. But I’m afraid. What if I can’t protect you without it? What if one day you realise I’m worth nothing without it? Regina, Emma, Zelena, even the fairies, can use magic willy-nilly without anyone batting an eyelid, without any thought of the price that must be paid. The Mills sisters can throw fireballs fueled by hate; can make me cardiac arrest if I try to hurt the woman who killed my son… And yet I must be muzzled, must cripple myself if I am to be accepted and have what I truly desire… But I will pay it gladly. I gave up my soul, my life for my son… I will do the same for my family. I would change everything for you.’

‘You would give it up?’

‘What I give up is nothing compared to what I will gain. You know they say sacrifice is the measure of true love, and I would sacrifice anything for you.’

And Belle believed him. She smiled. ‘And I for you. Which is why I won’t ask you to give it up.’

‘What?’

‘You should do it because you want to, not because you have it. When you know you’ll feel safe to let it go. And if I can find a way that can sever your immortality whilst still able to keep your power, a way that doesn’t hurt you or me or anyone else, I will. Just… promise me you’ll keep thinking about it.’

‘I will.’ Rumple looked grateful for her offer to help and for not pressuring him to break his curse today, but no less happy about his impending doom. ‘Not that it helps us here. Dark One or not, something will happen to make me absent from our children’s lives.’

‘We don’t have to accept it, we can change our fate.’  
  
‘No, we can’t, that’s what fate is, it’s inevitable.’

‘If that were true, you would have allowed the Duke’s soldiers to take your son away to war and have him returned to you in a casket… what was left of him. But you know the great thing about the future? It’s dead easy to change if you want to. We’re masters of our own destiny. You didn’t let a seer’s prophecy, a war or the barriers between worlds keep you from your son and you’re not going to let anything take you away from us now. Are you?’

Before Rumple could say anything they heard the sounds of a crowd of people coming towards them. Turning, they saw what looked like half the town heading their way from the Mills Mausoleum, led by Emma and Hook. Rumple vanished the dagger and he and Belle got to their feet, watching the procession coming ever closer.

How did they know they’d be here?

WHAM!

Without offering an explanation or even demanding one, Hook punched Rumple hard in the jaw with his fist. Caught by surprise, Rumple fell hard onto his son’s grave.

‘Rumple!’ Belle cried. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she shot at Hook.

She dropped to the ground to check if Rumple was all right. Rumple’s teeth were scarlet with his own blood and his lip was bleeding, having been split by one of Hook’s trophy rings.

‘Are you all right?’

Rumple nodded, wincing as he wiped his mouth with his pocket square and held it there, using it to stop the bleeding.

Belle rounded on the remorseless Hook. ‘Explain yourself!’

‘It’s the Crocodile who needs to explain,’ said Hook angrily. ‘Like why the hell he gave the Evil Queen water from the River of Lost Souls?’

‘I did no such thing,’ said Rumple, removing the blood stained pocket square from the corner of his mouth.

‘See? He can’t help but lie. It’s habit.’

‘I did bring a sample of water back from the Underworld, but I did _not_ give it to Regina 2.0, either through a deal or conveniently turning a blind eye.’

‘My parents are cursed,’ said Emma. ‘The Evil Queen made it so that one of them will be trapped under a sleeping curse forever. And every time they use true love’s kiss to wake them the curse just transfers into the other. They’ll never be together again.’

Sure enough, the dwarves appeared, Leroy and Mr Clarke carrying a sleeping Charming on a stretcher, Snow White holding her husband’s hand. She raised her tear-filled green eyes to Rumple. ‘Why did you even bring that stuff back with you?’

‘To release Milah from her torment and help her move on,’ Rumple explained.

‘Says the man who killed her,’ said Hook.

‘Well it worked. She’s passed into the next life.’

‘It’s true,’ said Belle. 

‘Stop defending him –’

‘I pulled her damned soul out of the water myself. I watched her ascend to Olympus to be with Baelfire. If we’re guilty of anything, it’s not cleaning up after ourselves, which is probably how the Evil Queen got her hands on the water in the first place.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell _me_? If she was trapped in the Underworld all these years –’

‘Because you weren’t her unfinished business,’ said Rumple. ‘Our son was. The son you convinced her to abandon. The son you gave up to Pan because he rejected you.’

‘What?’ said Emma.

‘I don’t know what he’s talking about, love,’ Hook denied.

‘Oh, now you’ve got amnesia again? I shared a mind with my son. I saw his memories in Neverland. “You hated my father so much, you don’t even realise you’re just like him”. You stole my magic bean and you left my son to the mercy of Pan.’

‘Let’s not get sidetracked,’ said Emma quickly, raising her left hand, upon which a diamond ring glittered.

Rumple’s sharp eyes homed in on the finger dog collar at once. So, the Saviour and the pirate were engaged. After everything he’d done to her, and she to him, she was really going to marry him? It was official: Emma Swan was as dead as his son. She had well and truly put her past behind her. Long live Emma Jones.

‘Of course not,’ said Rumple darkly. ‘It’s only the father of your son. I admit we shouldn’t have left the waters lying around. I hold my hands up to that –’

‘Now because of your carelessness my parents are separated forever!’

‘That wasn’t my intension –’

‘It doesn’t matter _what you intended_! What matters is what your actions wrought!’

There was a silence.

‘And what about _your_ actions, Miss Swan,’ said Rumple quietly. ‘Wasn’t it your selfish actions to save your lapdog that killed Merlin and multiplied the Darkness so that it could never be destroyed? Your dragging me and your entire family to the Underworld that threatened not only their safety but the safety of our unborn child? And your trust in Hades that got Robin Hood killed – which resulted in Regina’s reckless attempts to cut away her dark side that unleashed the Evil Queen on this town in the first place?’

Rumple turned to Regina.

‘I told you to pull yourself together. None of this would have happened if you had learned to deal with your dark impulses. But nobody listens to me. Every time I go out of my way to help you children, I get nothing but trouble. I don’t help, I get clobbered. I help you and you fail to heed my warnings, it all goes to hell, and still, somehow, I get clobbered. I save you all from Pan and I end up in a cage, left to the mercy of the Wicked Witch. I release my ex-wife from her watery purgatory and I’m blamed for the actions of another.

‘You’ll never see me as anything but a monster. Whatever I do I’m the bad guy and… I’m tired of it. So, we’re not doing this. I’m done. I’m done trying to fix your problems. What have any of you done for me? You’ve done _nothing_ for me. If you don’t like my methods, then go to the lying fairies and their light magic.’

‘We don’t lie,’ said the Blue Fairy imperiously.

‘The magic wardrobe only takes one, you said. That’s what she told you and your husband, isn’t that right, Snow White? The Saviour could’ve grown up with one or both her parents had you not lied about its capacity. You lied to them about the wardrobe as you lied to me about the last magic bean and all the other ways I could’ve found my son without casting the curse.’

‘He was better off without you,’ said the Blue Fairy. ‘As are Belle’s children.’

Rumple’s face contorted with rage.

‘That’s not for you to decide, Mother Superior,’ said Belle firmly.

‘Tell that to his firstborn,’ said Zelena.

‘You do not get to speak,’ Rumple snarled.

Rumple immediately began to magically strangle Zelena. She choked for a moment before Rumple suddenly clutched his chest in pain and staggered back, releasing her, steadying himself on his son’s gravestone. 

‘Wha – What’s happening?’ said Belle in alarm.

Zelena smiled in a wickedly satisfied way. ‘ _That_ is called a heart attack. I think he forgot that his little ticker only tocks thanks to me. See, when I saved your life back in that New York hospital, I didn’t do it out of the kindness of my heart. We had a deal, remember? So whenever you hurt me, you’re only hurting yourself.’

So Rumple was being serious when he said he would cardiac arrest if he attacked Zelena.

‘You’re evil,’ said Belle, sickened.

‘Not evil, dear. Wicked.’

‘And supposedly “redeemed”. I can’t believe I came to you for help.’

‘Oh I do. You wanted to hurt your husband by going to the woman who killed his firstborn son to help you take away his second born. I’m surprised you care so much, since your precious Rumpy Pumpy’s brush with death in New York didn’t even register as a blip on your radar while you were sucking the face off your rebound thief on the bed in his shop.’

Rumple straightened up, seemingly recovered, glaring at Zelena. ‘There’s one more thing Rumplestiltskin’s quite good at, and that’s finding loopholes. We are far from done, dearie. So I suggest you don’t test me.’

‘That’s why you were working with Zelena when we were looking for the Author,’ Regina realised. ‘Because you had no choice.’

‘If you seriously thought I would willingly help the woman who’d murdered my son just proves you don’t really know me. Don’t think I don’t understand loyalty just because I’ve got no one left to be loyal to.’

‘Are you really going to do nothing?’ said Emma to Rumple, bringing him back to the matter at hand.

But Rumple had reached the end of his tether. Emma completely glossing over born-again hero Zelena’s blatant unrepentant wickedness showed how little she cared about the man she once acknowledged as Henry’s grandfather, called him family and swore she was going to save him.

‘Are you?’ Rumple countered. ‘They’re your parents, you’re the Saviour, so save them. Live up to your reputation. Or are you afraid they’ll find out you’re not as helpful as advertised? That all you were ever good for was breaking a curse? And you,’ he addressed Regina again. ‘How many more must you condemn before you face the facts? We are both. Is it worth it, Regina? Sort this out, because I’m not going to do it for you. I’m done with you.’

Rumple looked around at everyone gathered with the same level of contempt. ‘All of you…’

Rumple turned his back on Emma and the town and strode away. Belle followed. They walked all the way back to Main Street before Rumple finally came to a halt. He didn’t look at Belle, the blood stained pocket square still held in his hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Belle.

‘Ah well. You know what they say,’ said Rumple. ‘No good deed from Rumplestiltskin goes unpunished.’

‘You couldn’t have known.’

‘Every time I do good, when everything finally starts to go right, Fate conspires against me. I spared Hook’s life; you get shot and forget who I am. I gave my life; my son dies. I gave you the dagger to prove my trust; that damn temptress Hat gets thrown into my path at my most vulnerable. I became a hero; I wasn’t enough for you. I destroyed the contract on our unborn child and follow you into your dreams to wake you; you refused to let me save you… at the time,’ he amended quickly. ‘Now I’m a father thrice, and I’ll never know either of my children.’

‘You’d rather they hated you?’

‘Well, I think it would have been more appropriate.’

‘Rumple!’ said Belle angrily.

Rumple bowed his head.

‘Hey,’ said Belle more gently, rubbing his arm. ‘We can’t be discouraged now, okay? It’s still not too late. There’s still time, we can figure this out –’

‘Don’t,’ Rumple snapped, pulling his arm free and finally looking Belle hard in the eye. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen and neither do you. But it always ends the same for me: Unhappily Ever After.’

‘We can’t give up now. The future isn’t always what it seems.’

‘You said that before and I still died. You also said you’d never give up on me, and… well…’ Rumple had no desire to relive all the times Belle walked out on him or how quickly she moved on with mundane, un-layered Will “Scrappy” Scarlet. ‘Don’t try to make everything all right. Because it’s not, okay?’

Belle swallowed and nodded. ‘Okay… I just want to say I know what you’re feeling. Either I lose my babies or I lose my husband. You’re not the only one in a no-win situation.’

There was a short pause.  
  
‘Sorry,’ said Rumple in a low voice.  
  
‘That’s quite all right,’ said Belle. ‘Where’re you going?’ she said as Rumple made to leave again.

‘I need to be alone. I need to think.’ Rumple took one step in the direction of his shop when he stopped abruptly, as though he’d just remembered something important he’d forgotten to do. ‘Oh, I meant to give you this earlier…’

He delved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a familiar glowing purple stone.

‘My memory stone,’ Belle gasped disbelievingly, taking it into her hand. ‘How…?’

‘I popped over to Arendelle, found the cliff face where it was smashed and, with Mrs Weaver’s help as conductor and Belle proxy, I was able to put the pieces back together. Sorry it took so long. There were a lot to go through.’

Belle looked at Rumple in wonder. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘I’m probably making things worse by giving it to you,’ said Rumple. ‘But I denied you the chance to make amends with Princess Anna. I thought giving you this would make your misadventure in Arendelle and our pointless expedition to the Snow Queen’s cave less futile.’

‘You haven’t looked?’

‘They’re your memories. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The only people who can call them forth are the person to whom they belong and the one who removed the memory.’

‘Grand Pabbie said I had to boil the stone in a tea and drink it in the place where the memory happened. I don’t think I’m up for travelling.’

‘No need. I brought Avonlea to you. The mansion where we had our honeymoon. Mrs Weaver helped me set up the study as a substitute. We filled it with books, even a desk from your home library. All that’s missing is…’

‘The first book my mother read to me,’ said Belle. ‘Why I delayed us leaving.’ She stared at the memory stone for a few moments, looked up at Rumple and then asked, ‘But why now? Why restore the memory stone now?’

Rumple hesitated, and then said, ‘Where yours and Mrs Weaver’s timelines diverge, your life could’ve been very different. And maybe… maybe we could’ve had the life Mrs Weaver and her Rumplestiltskin had. Memories make us who we are. Good or bad you deserve to know what happened to your mother. Goodbye Belle. I hope you find what you were looking for.’

*

Rumple returned to the shop. Mrs Weaver wasn’t there. She was obviously on her lunch break. He flipped the closed sign, closed the door and retreated into the back room. He sat down at his work bench, moving his hand clutching his pocket square automatically to his mouth, unaware of the golden glitter in the silken material. His lip was still throbbing, but it had stopped bleeding.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He felt drained and a thousand years old.

He threw the bloodstained pocket square down on the worktop. A cloud of golden dust erupted into the air, engulfing him. Rumple showed no outward indication that he was aware what had happened, except that his breathing became slow and steady.

‘Hello Papa.’

Rumple jumped to his feet, his eyes snapping open and spun around. Tilly was sitting cross-legged on the little bed, watching him.

‘Tilly…’ Rumple breathed. ‘You came back.’

‘Of course I did,’ said Tilly.

‘I don’t understand. How are you here right now?’

Tilly sighed. ‘How are _you_ here?’

Rumple looked behind him and saw himself still sitting in the chair at his desk. He moved around to stand in front of himself and saw his eyes were closed and traces of glittering gold dust clung to his lapels. Although it seemed as though he was only deep in thought, Rumple knew he was in an induced sleep caused by the residue Sands of Morpheus in his pocket square.

Tilly had got to her feet. Rumple looked back at his daughter and glanced around for a sign of his son.

‘Where is your brother?’ he asked.

‘He’s with Mama,’ said Tilly. ‘She was worried. He’s letting her know I’m taking care of our misunderstanding.’

Though faintly disappointed that he couldn’t see or talk to his son, Rumple said, ‘Misunderstanding?’

‘I’m sorry about earlier. Time’s a tricky business. You know, you were a seer. Trying to distinguish between what can be from what will be. Trying not to change the picture. The reason I didn’t say anything was because I’m afraid if I do it will make it happen. Once you know what’s coming, it’s fixed. If I told you you’re going to break something, you’re going to break something because I told you that you’re going to do it. No choice now. Does that make sense?’

Rumple nodded in understanding. ‘Once you learn something you can’t unlearn it. Once we know it’s coming, it’s written in stone. At least this way our future’s still our own. I’m afraid I’ll have to die. Or worse… I abandoned you all.’

Tilly moved closer to him and took his hand in both her own. ‘You’re full of love, Papa. You would never turn your back on us. And if we got separated, you’d never rest till you found us again.’

Rumple smiled through his tears. ‘I would do anything for you, sweetheart.’

Tilly smiled. Rumple wiped away a tear from her face.

‘So, um… what did your mother say about me?’

‘She talks about you all the time.’

‘I dread to think.’

‘No, no, no. She says nice things,’ said Tilly hastily. ‘Good things. Nice things. Really good things. All good things.’

‘Oh, my God, she’s told you everything,’ said Rumple, going slightly red.

‘All the greatest love stories get tested. It’d be a really boring story if it wasn’t. She told us you were the most wonderful man she’d ever met. She told us about your pure heart. How you used to spin to help you think or to relax. I picked it up myself.’

Rumple’s eyes lit up at the confession. ‘You’re a spinner…’ he said delighted.

‘We both are. When we’re not reading. I spun and weaved this jumper myself.’

Tilly showed him the handmade stripped jumper she was wearing, like a child eagerly showing her parents a drawing she had done herself.

‘That’s good,’ said Rumple, impressed and proud. ‘That’s really good. I feared the art of spinning would die with me. And I’d have been worried if you weren’t a reader.’

‘I’m not much of a dancer, though,’ Tilly admitted. ‘I used to step on Charlie’s toes a lot. Do you think you could teach me?’ she asked hopefully.

Rumple smiled. He clicked his fingers and the gramophone came to life, playing his and Belle’s song on the record.

‘May I have this dance, Miss Gold?’ Rumple asked, offering her his hand.

Tilly took it. ‘I’d be enchanted, Sir.’

They moved closer and began to waltz around the backroom. The Rumple in the chair smiled faintly in his sleep. The song ended and Tilly curtsied and Rumple bowed as he had done when he had given Belle the rose with a sweep of his hands.

‘You’re a wonderful dancer, Tilly,’ Rumple praised. ‘You just need to hold your nerve on your turning.’

‘Thank you, Papa.’

They heard the sound of the letterbox out front and the flop of something hitting the doormat.

‘Oh… You got mail,’ said Tilly.

Rumple went to investigate. He knew what it was before he was close enough to pick it up. A brown envelope with the Storybrooke General Hospital logo on it. It was the copy of Belle’s sonogram picture and DVD.

‘Belle…’ said Rumple softly, his heart warming.

He made to slit the envelope open, but –

‘Papa.’

Rumple looked at his daughter.

‘You need to wake up first.’

Though Rumple held the sonogram in his hand he saw the real envelope was still on the floor in the waking world. Tilly came over and cupped her father’s face.

‘Be the man I know you are… and we will be together always.’

Then she reached up on tiptoes and kissed Rumple’s cheek.

Rumple awoke at his work desk. There was a scratching sound from across the room. The needle of the gramophone was scratching the still spinning record that had finished its song moments ago. Rumple lifted the needle off the record and turned off the gramophone.

Then he remembered the gift Belle had dropped off for him and re-entered the front of the shop. The brown envelope was still lying on the floor. He picked it up, opened the envelope and pulled out the black and white picture of his son and daughter. He smiled at the small blobs, running his index finger over the right one that he knew, without question, was his darling Tilly.

_Thank you, Belle._

*

Not knowing what to do Belle went back to the library. She sat down at one of the desks, still covered in the books they had been looking through while researching how to stop Dark Hook. She looked at her memory stone. After all these years it was here in her hands. Now she would finally discover what happened to her mother.

She tilted the stone this way and that. On its smooth surface she saw, for the briefest moment, her mother smiling at her, then she turned into the face of an ogre and then into that of her father –

Belle set the stone down quickly on the desk. She wasn’t ready to face it yet.

Her thoughts drifted to Rumple alone in his shop. She hoped he was all right. She thought about what Zelena had said about the deal she had made with a powerless Rumple; holding the cure to his dying heart over his head unless he gave up his vendetta against her. The sight of Rumple clutching his heart as he struggled for breath was haunting her. And to think Rumple had had to go through that on his own, alone in New York. That his heart had actually stopped. And she had not felt it. Or maybe she had not recognised it for what it was because her own heart had felt like it was dying after she had thought he was gone from her life forever.

Belle fumbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose, sniffing loudly.

‘Hello Mother.’

Belle nearly screamed. She leapt up and whirled around. Their son stood there, smiling at her. Belle knew at once that there was something different about Charlie and not just his slightly longer hair and his clothes. Dressed in a white shirt from the Enchanted Forest, instead of the golden robes from the dreamworld, Charlie had a look of hope about him.

‘Charlie,’ said Belle. ‘You’re here.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘No. _You’re_ here.’

Belle turned and saw she was sitting fast asleep in her chair, her hands in her lap, the handkerchief she had used to blow her nose glinted with grains of gold sand.

‘You look… different,’ Belle said to her son.

Charlie tilted his head a little to one side. ‘How so?’

‘Since last we met. In the Dark Castle.’

Now Charlie understood and he looked sad and apologetic. ‘That wasn’t me, Mother.’

‘Yes it was. We shared true love’s kiss.’

‘I do love you, as I love father. But they were just using my image.’

They? Who are “they”?

‘The sleeping curse, the Dark Curse. It, and all of the darkness you’ve ever faced, was borne out of one twisted soul… They have dominion over the Netherworld and so were able to manipulate that already wicked curse to poison your mind. But we can talk freely in here, untainted by the sleeping curse.’ Charlie looked contrite. ‘And I’m so sorry I allowed her to take control of me. Can you forgive me?’

‘Of course,’ said Belle immediately. ‘And Rumple? Your father. You – they – she? – warned me against him.’

‘We trust the people we love to tell the truth. We trust them not to harm us. And the Great Evil was playing on that.’

‘To do what?’

‘A true love child borne of light and dark – the rarest true love of all. Imagine what a powerful weapon that can be in the wrong hands.’

Belle felt terrible. ‘And I believed them. I turned my back on Rumple – again.’

‘It’s never too late,’ Charlie told her, smiling.

Belle glanced at the memory stone sitting next to the envelope of the sonogram copy.

‘You don’t know what to do, do you?’

Belle shook her head. ‘I thought I did. Who wants to see someone they love get ripped apart by ogres? Father told me mother died to protect me. That ought to be enough. So why isn’t it?’

‘Why do you think it is?’

‘He was so against me remembering that he actually tried to lock me in my room, like I was Mr Toad with a crazed obsession. In the end he told me the truth, or at least a half-truth, just to pacify me.’

‘The truth is rarely pure and never simple,’ Charlie quoted. ‘But the truth is generally preferable to lies, even if we can’t take it. If you believe grandfather told you the truth about grandmother then you don’t have to use the memory stone. If not, you can remember what you’ve forgotten, and life will never be the same again. But at least you’ll know the whole truth. It’s a no-brainer. Your choice.’

Charlie took his mother’s hand and Belle looked up at him.

‘But best to do it when you’re awake,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, just like his father’s did. ‘Good luck.’

Charlie kissed his mother’s forehead and Belle jerked awake in her library seat. She picked up the memory stone, gripping it in her hand.

She wanted to know the truth.

Before employing the use of the magic glove again (she didn’t feel like hiking all the way up to the Sorcerer’s Mansion) Belle stopped by the pawnshop to post the copy of the sonogram through the letter box. Her conversation with their _real_ son had affirmed her decision.

‘If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly,’ said Belle.

With that done, she pulled on the riding glove and transported herself to the lakeside mansion. She hadn’t been here since their honeymoon. She entered the study and saw at a glance that it had indeed been filled with items from her Avonlean library: books, ornaments and the very desk she and her mother had hidden under.

Belle settled herself under the desk and pulled out _Her Handsome Hero_ and the thermos flask full of tea containing the boiled memory stone. She poured it into the cup, a purple-ish rising from it like steam. She brought the cup to her lips and drank.

The study shimmered around her and turned into the library from her hometown. Belle watched again her mother taking down books from the shelves and packing them into trunks.

‘The wall… it’s fallen,’ said an Avonlean soldier. ‘We must leave now. The town will soon be overrun.’

‘These books are too valuable to leave to those monsters,’ said Colette.

‘My lady, please,’ the soldier insisted.

‘Take these trunks to the carriage. I’ll be just behind you.’

‘And your daughter?’

‘I will find her. Now go.’

The solider departed with the trunks.

‘Darling, we must leave, quickly!’ Colette called. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m right here, Mother!’ Belle watched her younger-self emerge from a row of books, clutching _Her Handsome Hero_ in her hands. ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t leave without this. It’s the first story you ever read to me, remember? It’s what made me fall in love with books.’

‘Of course I remember, my Belle.’ Colette smiled and stroked her daughter’s cheek. ‘Quickly, we must flee befo…’

They heard a noise outside.

‘They’re here,’ younger Belle gasped.

‘We will hide till they pass.’

They hid under a table beside the present Belle. All three of them watched the ogre enter the library, searching for something, sniffing loudly.

‘Ogres!’ younger Belle whispered, terrified.

‘Shh!’ Colette put a finger to her lips. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

Present Belle tensed up. This was it, the moment she couldn’t remember. Any second now –

Suddenly the ogre discovered them as it ripped the table away, looming over them like a grotesque mountain. Colette screamed.

The ogre roared –

Next moment, a second, much smaller ogre appeared out of nowhere, planting itself in front of younger Belle and Colette, throwing up its arms to stop the enormous ogre from doing the women harm.

‘What?’ said Colette bewildered, clutching her daughter close to her, visibly stunned to be rescued by the enemy.

But both Belle’s had recognised the vicious scars on the ogre youngling’s back. ‘It’s the ogre child, Mother! The one Gaston tortured. I saved him.’

At the sound of her voice the ogre child turned towards Belle, smiling at her. He sniffed the air, sensing Colette’s presence.

‘She’s my mother,’ said Belle, not sure whether he could understand her.

The ogre child grunted to the adult ogre. The adult ogre stood down. Belle didn’t understand. Her father told her the ogres had ripped her mother apart. But the ogre child had saved them and talked the adult ogre (who might possibly be its mother) down.

The ogre child offered its hand to younger Belle. She took it and stood up. Present Belle stood up too. ‘It’s all right, Mother. We’re safe.’

Colette got to her feet too, looking at the ogre child with compassion and shame. ‘I’m sorry for what my future son-in-law did to you.’ She addressed the ogre mother, ‘I would never have condoned this if I had known our kind had initiated combat. We can broker a peace treaty. End this bloodshed.’

The ogre mother considered for a moment, then emitted a soft grunt. Judging by the smile of the ogre child and younger Belle’s hopeful look, it seemed that the end of the Ogres War was close.

So how did it all go wrong?

Then an arrow struck the ogre child squarely in the eye, killing him instantly.

‘NO!’ Colette and her daughters screamed.

The mother ogre let out a roar of rage, like a lioness. Soldiers stormed into the room, weapons drawn, warding off the ogre with flaming torches. Gaston stood framed in the doorway, the satisfied smile of a hunter who had claimed another trophy to hang on his wall; his bow drawn. Lord Maurice stood beside him, patting his muscular future son-in-law’s arm, as if praising him for ruining this chance of peace.

‘What have you done!’ Colette shouted at her husband, shocking Belle. She had seen her parents argue before, but never had she seen her mother with such unbridled rage.

‘Colette, Belle! We must leave!’ called Maurice. ‘Forget the books! The beast will not be kept at bay for long –’

‘You shot this child with no provocation!’

‘He’s an ogre!’ said Gaston, as if stating the obvious. ‘A monster! That’s cause enough! They will rip you apart!’

‘He saved us!’ said younger Belle, as angry as her mother. ‘Even after everything you did to him, Gaston! We had a chance to call off the fighting! Make peace –’

‘You can’t reason with them! They’re beasts!’ Maurice roared. ‘Animals!’

‘And what are you?’ shouted Colette. ‘Maurice wouldn’t have wanted this!’

Belle looked quickly at her mother. She didn’t understand what she meant. Why was Mother talking about Father in the third person?

‘I don’t care what my brother wanted! He’s not here!’ Maurice shouted back.

She turned to look at her father again. What was going on? Brother? But father didn’t have a brother… did he?

‘Because you forced him to, Jacques!’

‘Mother? Father? What –’

But her parents steamrollered on as if they hadn’t heard her.

‘I can remain silent no longer! Maurice would never allow my daughter to marry such a monster or bring war to our little town! If you were half the man your brother was –’

‘I’m _ten times_ the man my brother was! He’s a failure of a man and a failure of a father!’

Belle felt faint as did her younger self. ‘M-mother? What’re you two saying? Maurice is my father.’

‘This is not Maurice,’ said Colette. ‘He’s not your father. He’s your uncle Jacques.’

The ogre mother knocked the soldiers aside like skittles, slamming its enormous fists into the ground. Rubble fell from the ceiling, breaking Belle’s arm. The ogre mother lunged at her, but Colette planted herself protectively in front of her daughter. The ogre seized Colette and ripped her apart.

‘NOOOOO!’

Gaston hit Belle on the head with the hilt of his sword, silencing her screams and catching her as she fell. The scene grew dark, the voices of Gaston and Maurice – Jacques? – became distant, Belle could still hear what they were saying as she teetered on the edge on consciousness.

‘Fall back!’ said not-Maurice. ‘Get her out of here!’

‘What about Belle?’

‘If you still want her as your queen, you will hold your tongue. With any luck, she won’t remember a thing. If not… then, for the future of our kingdom, I will call upon the Blue Fairy to ensure she is back in her right mind…’

Everything went black. When it reformed Belle was in her bedchamber with no memory of what had happened after being discovered by the ogre. She met the man she didn’t know was not her biological father. The imposter Maurice looked pleased she didn’t remember the events in the library –

Belle forced the memory to end, bringing herself back to the mansion, as if waking from a bad dream. She felt horrified by what she remembered. Her ex-fiancé killing the ogre child, destroy any chance of stopping the war he had brought on her village and getting her mother killed. And her father, who was, in fact, her uncle, so determined to ensure she would forget that he would’ve asked the fairies to remove her memories as willingly as he would send her across the town line.

All these years Maurice had lied to her.

*

Rumple was looking happily at the sonogram picture when Belle entered the shop next day with a jingle of the shop bell. Mrs Weaver was resetting the chess board after giving the glass chess pieces a good polish. They looked up as Belle entered.

‘Belle.’ Rumple’s face lit up when he saw her. ‘I’ve been meaning to thank you for… this.’ He held up the picture.

‘You’re welcome,’ said Belle. ‘Mrs Weaver,’ she inclined her head in greeting.

‘Mrs Gold.’ Mrs Weaver imitated her.

‘I wanted to return this.’ Belle held out the magic glove.

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Mrs Weaver took the glove back.

‘Another magical realm crossing object that’s eluded me,’ said Rumple, staring wistfully at the glove that could’ve taken him to Bae.

‘I’m actually glad you’re here,’ said Mrs Weaver, after returning the glove to her bag and stepping out from behind the glass cabinet.

‘You are?’ said Belle in surprise.

‘I wanted to ask if you and Mr Gold would like to be Ellie’s godparents,’ said Mrs Weaver, stroking her stomach.

Rumple and Belle looked taken aback.

‘M-me?’ Rumple stammered.

‘Us?’ said Belle faintly.

‘You – yes, of course,’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘Who else?’

‘I – yeah – wow –’

Rumple looked overwhelmed, astonished, delighted at this honour. He looked anxiously at Belle, worrying whether he was jumping the gun at making this commitment. Belle felt overwhelmed too at being asked to be godmother. All the times she had babysat for Neal for the Charmings and looked after him and baby Robyn when they had all gone down to the Underworld and no one had asked her. Now Mrs Weaver, who she barely knew, was asking her to be godmother to her unborn daughter.

She looked between Rumple and Mrs Weaver, who were still waiting for an answer.

‘Well…’ said Belle nervously. Then she smiled, ‘I suppose I better buy a silver spoon, then, Mr Gold.’

Mrs Weaver gave a little delighted squeal and hugged Belle. Belle hugged her back, Rumple smiling happily at the pair of them.

‘Did you get a chance to look at your memory stone?’ Rumple asked, expression turning apprehensive in the aftermath of the illation of being made godfather.

‘Not yet,’ Belle lied, her eyes roaming the items on display, under the pretext of looking for a christening gift. She forced back any feelings of guilt for what she said and what she was about to do. But she had to do this in her own way.

Then she spotted what she needed amongst a collection of items from the Emerald City. ‘You know what? A silver spoon’s a bit too traditional. Maybe a music box…’

‘Oh you’re in luck!’ said Mrs Weaver eagerly. ‘My father just tuned some up yesterday. Hang on, I’ll go get them.’

She ducked behind the curtain to retrieve them.

‘You’re really spoiled for choice,’ Rumple told Belle. ‘Exquisite craftsmanship, if I do say so myself.’

Rumple went to help Mrs Weaver bring the boxes through. It was exactly the diversion Belle was hoping for. After taking what she needed, she hastily sent a text to her own phone, which went off loudly, giving her the perfect excuse to exit quickly…

‘Uh, actually, I’ve got to go!’ Belle called. ‘Maybe I’ll just plant Ellie a tree – bye!’

By the time Rumple and Mrs Weaver had stepped back into the front carrying exquisite, ingeniously crafted music boxes, Belle had already disappeared.

‘Is she all right?’ asked Mrs Weaver, holding a windmill shaped box in one hand and an elephant with the palace of Agrabah on its back in the other.

‘I don’t know…’ said Rumple, holding a box of Notre Dame and a kissing couple on a gondola, a slight frown on his face.

As he placed the music boxes on the shelf behind the till, in case Belle wanted to come back and peruse them as potential christening presents, Mrs Weaver called to him from the nearest glass cabinet.

‘Um, Mr Gold… you haven’t started your appraisals yet, have you?’ she asked, in a tone that she suggested she knew perfectly well that he hadn’t but not wanting to cause alarm.

‘No. Why?’

‘Nothing,’ said Mrs Weaver, unconvincingly. ‘Probably just fell on the floor while I was cleaning.’

But Rumple wasn’t fooled. He braced himself on the counter, concentrating on keeping his anger in check and preventing himself sinking under the weight of the same crushing disappointment he’d felt when Belle had first used the fake dagger on him (proving that she was willing to use the real thing) and when she had manipulated his love for her in the Underworld to steal the real dagger to save her ex-fiancé.

_This is where we make mistakes. Reacting… Acting out of fear... Not talking to each other…_

Rumple should’ve known that when Belle said all that she was talking about him. It’s one rule for him, one rule for her. She just double-standards. He didn’t need to look at the Emerald City collection to see what Belle might have pilfered.

‘Five or six?’ Rumple asked.

Mrs Weaver didn’t answer.

‘Mrs Weaver, five or six?’

Mrs Weaver looked afraid even saying the word. Very reluctantly, she held out the open box so that Rumple could see quite clearly exactly how many were nestled on the green silk lining. He nodded and she closed the lid.

‘She did look at the memory stone, then,’ said Mrs Weaver.

‘Evidently. I thought we were past this.’

‘She probably doesn’t know what to do.’

‘She could have stayed. She could have talked to me. That’s what couples are _supposed_ to do: work things through – together, like she said to me not twenty four hours ago,’ said Rumple, his voice becoming more angry. He sighed. ‘I may not be a _very_ good man, but I think I’m a bit better than Belle gives me credit for, most of the time.’

‘ _All_ the time,’ said Mrs Weaver. ‘You’re a good man, Mr Gold. You lose sight of that sometimes, but it’s always been there. Never doubt that. You know better than anyone that things aren’t as black and white as we like to think. Everything she ever thought she knew, everything she counted on has suddenly turned out to be untrue. The very foundation of Belle’s childhood is crumbling, like castles made of sand. You remember how it felt when your father showed you his true nature that day in Neverland.’

Rumple nodded. Every single day he thought about the day he found out that his father saw him less as a son than just a burden holding him back. That didn’t change the fact that Belle couldn’t follow her own advice when it came to communicating and when it was right or necessary to use magic. In the old days, anyone who stole from him, the Dark One, anyone who crossed him would get skinned alive. Of course, anyone who knowingly hurt his loved ones did so at their own peril.

‘Shall I call the Sheriff?’ said Mrs Weaver.

‘No…’ said Rumple quietly. ‘No, I will deal with this myself.’

And with that he marched straight to the door to do just that.

‘Where’re you going?’ Mrs Weaver called after him.

Rumple stopped with his hand on the door handle and looked round at her, his expression very aggrieved. ‘To get some sodding answers. Don’t wait up.’

Before Mrs Weaver could waste her breath telling him to treat this emotional situation delicately and calmly, Rumple had gone.

*

Maurice locked up _Game of Thorns_ and pulled down the blinds. He carried the buckets of snapdragons, petunias and black roses into the backroom. A voice spoke from the shadows behind him.

‘Interesting bouquet… Yellow carnations for rejection. Yellow chrysanthemums for slighted love. Orange lilies for hatred, pride and contempt.’

Rumplestiltskin sat in the shadows beside the door, playing idly with a mock-up bride’s bouquet. He glanced at the bouquets for the bridesmaids and flower arrangements for the future Captain and Mrs Jones.

‘Warning of misfortunes, sorrow, jealousy, distrust, despair, grief, danger, mourning, decrease of love, infidelity, sadness, powerful protection against evil, ingratitude, childish behaviour, and unfaithfulness... Either you don’t believe in love or you’re trying to tell us something about the happy couple. All Emma Swan needs now is a dress by Helen Rose and we’ve got ourselves the wedding of the century.’

The fact that Maurice wasn’t crapping his pants at the sight of him (at least not outwardly) suggested that Rumple had done this spontaneous-pop-up-when-you-least-expect-him trick so many times, both as the Dark One and Mr Gold, that the novelty had worn off.

‘What the hell do you want?’ said Maurice.

‘Not a good idea to be testy to the man who owns your house and every building in the whole damn town,’ said Rumple. He stood up, looking deadly serious. ‘We need to talk.’

‘We’re closed for business.’

‘I own your business too, Mr French. And we’re going to talk now. It’s important.’

‘And yet, still closed. So unless you’ve changed rent day, I suggest you get the hell out.’

‘This is family business.’

‘What do you know about family, Beast?’ said Maurice derisively, brushing passed him.

‘Well, more than you do it would seem… Jacques.’

Maurice froze at the sound of the name. He turned slowly about.

‘That’s your name, isn’t it? Or have you been pretending so long you’ve forgotten the truth?’

Maurice found it difficult to maintain eye contact.

‘Oh.’ Rumple chuckled. ‘ _Dreadful_ poker face. What would your daughter say if she found out you’re not her father?’

‘She won’t believe your lies. It’s your word against mine. You have no proof.’

‘Then there’s nothing to fear, is there? Would you care to explain? Or shall I tell you-know-who what we know to be true?’

‘We both take this secret to our graves,’ said Maurice, pointing a pair of pruning secateurs warningly at his landlord.

Rumple raised his eyebrows, looking shocked. ‘You mean it _is_ true? I was bluffing.’

‘I’m not! I am every bit Belle’s father. I’m the only father she’s ever known. And how the hell did you find out?

‘That’s not part of the game,’ said Rumple coolly. ‘So, tell me about the real Maurice? What did he do that was so terrible that you made him disappear?’

‘Colette was mine,’ said Maurice, sounding exactly like Dr Jekyll. ‘She was supposed to be with me. Had he ruled he would have us ally with ogres, fill Belle’s head with fanciful nonsense. I made Avonlea strong.’

‘You brought war and death to your little town, which would’ve been destroyed completely if Belle hadn’t had the bravery to call on Rumplestiltskin.’

‘A small price to pay for all the pain and misery you’ve befallen her.’

‘That’s why you got rid of Maurice? Because you were jealous?’

‘Strong men take what they need.’

‘Colette didn’t love you so you had him killed.’

‘Worse,’ said Maurice nastily. ‘I cursed him. The Curse of the Poisoned Heart. He couldn’t touch Colette without hurting her. And he abandoned her.’

‘No. He was protecting her. Just like Colette protected Belle from the ogre whose child you murdered.’

‘That spawn would have killed her too. It would’ve grown to be a murderous monster like its parents. Just like you.’

‘You’re the beast, Moe French. What will you tell your daughter?’

‘Nothing. Belle doesn’t know anything about my brother, and it’s going to stay that way. She knows her mother died to save her and that’s all she needs to know.’

Rumple sighed. ‘Yeah, you know, I was afraid you were gonna say that…’

‘So, go on,’ Maurice challenged him. ‘Where’s your old friend, Cain? Aren’t you going to remind me of the taste? Like I told you before, I’ll die before I give in to you.’

‘That might work if it had actually killed someone. Or if beating you would actually crack that crust around your heart.’ Rumple frowned, stopping this banter, and said, a little more angrily, ‘Why won’t you tell Belle the truth?’

‘Because Belle can’t ever know that I lied to her. It would break her and I would lose her forever – and, Gold, I will _never_ let that happen. You of all people should understand that. That’s why you lied to Belle when you married her.’

‘And how did that work out for us? Belle Weaver and her father Maurice are in town. They’re going to cross paths sooner or later. She’s going to figure it out.’

‘I’ve been doing this for years. You couldn’t even manage one week into your marriage.’

‘You keep talking about being the better man, why don’t you grow a back bone and prove it?’

Shaking his head in disappointment, Rumple got up headed for the door.

‘Please…’ said Maurice, slightly desperately.

Rumple stopped and turned back to him. Maurice took a step towards his son-in-law.

‘…understand. There is nothing in this world I would not do to stop that from happening. Unlike you, I know how to keep my Belle.’

‘Well… there’s the big difference.’ Rumple raised his hand and reached down the neck of his shirt and pulled out six-leaf clover pendant. When he spoke again, he spoke with Belle’s voice, ‘My husband doesn’t _keep_ me. He lets me go.’

Maurice’s face filled with dread as he realised the truth. The clover glowed green and Rumplestiltskin changed into Belle, who looked at her uncle Jacques with no expression in her eyes. Maurice gasped.

‘And he would _never_ keep something that important from me. That’s why he gave me the memory stone. I know what happened that day. I know what happened to Mother.’

Maurice let out an anguished sigh. ‘Belle…’

‘Hello father,’ said Belle coldly. ‘Or should I even call you that? How could you?’

Maurice drew himself up and said, unrepentantly, ‘Everything I did was for the good of Avonlea. Everything I did was to protect you.’

‘You mean keep me docile. Be the daughter you wanted me to be. Make me forget who I am, leave me trapped under a sleeping spell.’

‘To protect you from the Dark One? Yes.’

‘You really would have left me trapped in that sleeping death forever because of your hatred of Rumple. Even if it meant trapping your own grandchild?’

‘What?’ Maurice looked deeply shocked. ‘You’re… you’re pregnant?’

‘You didn’t know?’ said Belle in surprise. Surely Rumple would’ve told him when he went to ask him to wake her.

‘Is it Gold’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see.’ Her father seemed to be weighing the options in his mind. ‘Well that settles it. I’m making you an appointment first thing tomorrow.’

‘I’ve already had my checkup. Everything’s fine.’

‘The quicker this is dealt with the better,’ said Maurice, who appeared not to hear her.

‘Dealt with?’

‘We’ll purge you of this evil and the fairies can cleanse your soul.’

With scourges and flaying?

‘You want to _kill_ my babies!?’ said Belle outraged.

‘ _Babies_?!’ Maurice’s eyes were bulging in his fear and fury.

‘I’m having twins,’ said Belle proudly. ‘Fraternal twins. Charlie and Tilly – you’re grandson and granddaughter.’

‘You _named_ the devil’s spawn?’

‘Don’t you _dare_ speak of my children that way! They’re not devil’s spawn! They’re wonderful, and I love them! And Rumple loves them too! I’m not going to any clinic or convent! You can’t make me!’

Belle tried to leave but Maurice pushed her back and grabbed a large pair of hedge shears. Belle backed up, her breathing shallow and her heart hammering, her eyes fixed upon the long blades that could slice right through her.

‘Father…’

‘I offered you the chance to go freely,’ said Maurice, breathing heavily. ‘You refused. I have no alternative. If I have to do it myself? So be it!’

Maurice brought the shears slashing down. Instinctively Belle brought up her hands and the combined protection from her mother’s necklace and her wedding ring emitted such a powerful golden barrier around her that when the shears made contact for force of it sent Maurice flying backwards into a pile of plant pots, which broke apart.

Belle ran for the door.

‘BELLE!’

Maurice caught up with Belle in the middle of the road outside her library.

‘Get _back_!’ Belle warned him, her hand held out, like she wanted to blast him backwards. Maurice kept his distance. ‘You hate my husband so much that you would’ve left your daughter – who you profess to love – trapped under a sleeping curse?’ She thought about why Rumple might have omitted to mention she was with child and what Maurice had almost done. ‘What if you’d known I was pregnant? Would you have left me like that forever? Or would you have killed them while I slept?’

‘You left him, Belle,’ Maurice reminded her. ‘You know what kind of beast you’re dealing with.’

‘I thought I did,’ said Belle coldly. ‘But after what you just did, I was mistaken. You walked me down the aisle, remember? You gave us your blessing.’

‘I knew I couldn’t talk you out of it. You wouldn’t listen to reason. So you had to see his lies for yourself – and you did. It’s been a hard lesson, but at least now you know I’ve been trying to protect you from your own foolishness.’

‘Where’s my real father?’

‘What does it matter?’

‘It matters to me.’

‘Dead,’ said Maurice indifferently. ‘The last I heard he fled to Wonderland. Probably hoping he’d find a cure. He was killed by the Jabberwocky.’

Angry tears burned in Belle’s eyes. ‘We’re finished,’ she whispered.

‘Belle…’ said Maurice, as if he thought Belle was being hysterical or not thinking clearly, ‘all your life I have supported you and looked after you. If you want to turn your back on your family –’

‘My family is right here,’ Belle told him, placing her hand on her stomach over her son and daughter. ‘From this day forward, I do not know you. From this day forward, I disown you.’

What little love and compassion Maurice had for Belle died, leaving his eyes like chips of ice, as he seemed to return the sentiment. He leaned right into her face and hissed with as much venom as he could muster, ‘I hope you lose that baby.’

Jacques turned his back on his niece, leaving a horrified silence in his wake. Belle stood alone on the dark street in her husband’s clothes, her face white and clutching her stomach.

Rumple, who had been watching the conversation in the shadows of the library where he had once hidden in when he had witnessed Belle and Will kissing through the window of his shop, looked shocked and sickened by what he had heard.

Belle turned as he stepped into the light and stopped short when she saw him standing there, having seen and heard everything. She lowered her gaze feeling embarrassed and humiliated at being caught wearing his suit which, now the glamour spell had lifted, was slightly too big in the arms and trousers legs, and in no mood to being berated about stealing the six-leaf clover, when she had lost two fathers in one night and that one of them had just wished death on the babies growing inside her.

‘Okay, now’s not the time, Rumple. All right? You can yell at me tomorrow,’ said Belle, her voice trembling with the effort not to cry.

‘No!’ Rumple shook her head. ‘No, Belle, I’m not going to yell at you. There’s nothing you have done that could justify the way you were treated.’

‘But you were angry with me, and rightly so.’

‘I was angry with you, but I’m not anymore.’

But far from being relieved, Belle just felt worse that she wasn’t getting torn a new one. ‘Just say it: I’m a hypocrite. I’m a thief. I deserve it. You have the moral high ground and you’re not going to take advantage?’

Rumple shook his head again. ‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ he said. ‘I don’t think anything I can say can make you feel worse than you already do.’

Belle started to cry.

‘Oh Belle, come here.’ Rumple hugged her while she sobbed into his chest. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have given you that stone. I should have left it alone.’

‘No… I’m glad you did.’

‘Are you okay?’

Belle snivelled. ‘No I’m not. The man I called father all my life hates me so much that he hopes my babies die. And the man who was my father is gone and I’ll never get to see or speak to him. I’ll never know if he knew I ever existed. I’ll never know if he ever loved me… or would’ve been proud of the person I’ve become.’

‘I know I am.’ Rumple stroked her hair. ‘Is there anything I can do? Anything.’

Belle let out a small, wet chuckle. ‘You always say it’s dangerous to promise ‘anything’, whichever end of the deal you’re on.’ She sighed. ‘Bring my father back? Or at least by me one more hour with him?’

She laughed to herself at the ridiculousness of the request, fulling expecting Rumple to say that it was impossible. If it were, then they could have not only her mother back, but Neal, Robin and Sheriff Graham too.

Instead Rumple kissed the top of her head and whispered, ‘Your wish is my command.’

*

Rumple held the door open for Belle as they entered the shop. From the back room they heard the tinkling sound of a music box playing. Inside they found the Wish version of Belle’s father fixing a music box. It was shaped like Belle’s castle home and inside it were two dancing figures, revolving steadily. A closer look showed them to be Colette and a much younger Maurice, her mother dressed in a golden gown and her father in a blue coat similar to what Rumple had worn for their first dance as a married couple. Unaware he had an audience, Mrs Weaver’s father was singing softly to the melody the box was playing:

♫How does a moment last forever?  
How can a story never die?  
It is love we must hold onto  
Never easy, but we try  
Sometimes our happiness is captured  
Somehow, our time and place stand still  
Love lives on inside our hearts and always will.♫

The song ended and Maurice François closed the box. Belle stepped forward nervously. He looked up and saw Mrs Gold standing there. ‘Hello,’ he said politely, taking off his glasses. ‘Can I help?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Belle in a small voice. ‘Are you Maurice?’

He nodded. ‘That’s right.’

‘Of Avonlea?’

‘That’s right.’

Belle swallowed and said timidly, ‘…I just wanted to meet you.’

Rumple hovered by the curtain, wondering whether he had made his second big mistake today.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, my dear?’ said Mrs Weaver’s father kindly.

‘Okay.’

‘And a slice of chocolate cake?’

A small smile tugged the corners of Belle’s mouth. ‘That’ll be nice.’

‘Come.’

Mrs Weaver’s father smiled and patted the stool beside him, while he went to bring over a tray of freshly brewed chamomile tea and chocolate cake. Belle sat down. Rumple and Mrs Weaver’s father’s eyes met, and Maurice François nodded reassuringly to Rumple, telling him nonverbally he’ll look after her. Rumple went outside to give them some privacy.

After over an hour of patient but nervous waiting, Belle came outside. She had changed out of his spare suit and into some fresh women’s clothes off the rack. Her eyes were red from crying, her face still pale and had a smear of chocolate cake in the corner of her mouth, but when she saw Rumple, she gave him a wan smile.

‘Everything all right?’ said Rumple.

‘Yeah,’ said Belle tiredly, feeling emotionally drained.

‘How was he?’

‘He was lovely – he _is_ lovely.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Rumple agreed.

‘You were right. My life would have been very different had I been raised by Maurice François. Thank you,’ she said gratefully.

Rumple nodded. Then he spotted a flyer sticking out of the letter box. Pulling it out he saw it was a coupon for 2-for-1 drinks at a new pub called _Æsop's Tables_. The nightlife in Storybrooke had really increased in the last few days since the dirigible came to town.

‘Fancy a pick–me–up?’ he asked showing it to her. ‘Seems a shame to waste it.’

‘Even if I was in the mood for half price liquor, I can’t drink,’ Belle reminded him dully.

She wasn’t a drinker like Lacey, but the moment you were told you couldn’t have something, suddenly it was all you craved. And a cup of chamomile wasn’t going to cut it after the night she’d had.

‘No. But you can drink cranberry juice out of a wine glass and freak people out. Besides, after the couple of days we’ve had? I think we can both use a distraction.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic glove: https://www.maisonfabre.com/en/module/smartblog/details?id_post=8  
> Beauty and the Beast 2017 music boxes: https://www.brookedibble.blog/portfolio/film/beauty-and-the-beast/
> 
> Language of flowers:
> 
> Begonia: beware, dark thoughts.  
> Black rose: revenge, hatred and the end of a relationship.  
> Buttercups: ingratitude, childish behaviour, and unfaithfulness.  
> Dill: Powerful against evil.  
> Lavender: distrust.  
> Marigold: despair, grief.  
> Orange lilies: hatred, pride and content.  
> Petunias: feelings of deep resentment and anger.  
> Purple Hyacinth: sorrow.  
> Rhododendron: danger.  
> Rose, dark crimson: mourning.  
> Rose, yellow: decrease of love, infidelity.  
> Snapdragon: deception.  
> Willow: sadness.  
> Yellow Carnations: rejection.  
> Yellow Chrysanthemums: slighted love.  
> Yellow Hyacinth: jealousy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've had Snow Falls and Snow Drifts, now get ready for Snow Slushed!

_Æsop’s Tables_ was certainly different from _The Rabbit Hole_. Aside from being a pub rather than a nightclub, it was smaller and lighter in here, with pictures of animals from Aesop’s Fables, a roaring fireplace next to the bar, a pool table and a dartboard in the corner, a small stage (presumably for karaoke or performances) and a pianist playing by the door as punters came in.

Rumple took Belle’s coat and hung it up while she went to get them some seats. As she past the pianist suddenly switched from playing Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata_ to Katy Perry’s _Hot N Cold_. Belle faltered for a moment then quickened her pace. Apparently the pianist was paid to change the music whenever someone came in. When Rumple past the pianist the music changed again, this time to _How to Save a Life_. Without breaking stride Rumple flicked his hand causing the lid to slam down on the pianists fingers with a clunk and the breaking of bones.

Rumple and Belle settled themselves on stools at the bar and ordered their drinks from the man himself, Aesop; a virgin “the Wolf and the Horse” and a virgin “the Lion and the Mouse”.

Then a familiar voice said in surprise –

‘What’re you two doing here?’

It was Regina, who had just approached the bar with Snow and a despondent Emma, so it didn’t look as though they were out on a hen night.

‘My father who’s not my father just told me he hopes I lose my babies,’ Belle mumbled, staring gloomily into her crimson drink.

‘My unborn son hates me and my unborn daughter says I won’t live to meet either of them,’ said Rumple, fiddling with his swizzle stick that had a wolf on top.

‘I have a baby and a sleeping curse at home,’ said Snow.

‘Hook killed my grandfather, lied to me and my father, tried to destroy the memory and rather than fight for us, he just ran away,’ said Emma numbly.

‘I’ve re-joined with my dark side and sent the wish version of Robin Hood to my Wish Realm self to live happily ever after, while I’m right back where I started,’ said Regina.

At that moment Aesop served Emma her drink at Regina had just ordered.

‘You ordered your pregnant wife a wine?’ said Snow.

‘Relax,’ said Rumple annoyed. ‘It’s a soft drink in a wine glass. Just because my wife’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can’t have fun and mess with people.’

‘I can’t believe you two,’ said Emma to Regina and Snow. ‘You seriously called in a fake fight to get me down here for two for one drinks?’

‘Fake fight. Real friends,’ said Regina. ‘We’re worried about you, Emma. You have to stop holding everything in.’

‘Regina’s so right. Have you tried these drinks?’ Snow held up her pint glass. ‘They’re supposedly “artisanal,” which, I think, means “strong”.’

‘How many of those has she had?’ said Belle, looking worried.

‘If you can believe it, that’s her first,’ said Regina.

‘Hey! Baby – sleeping curse – broken-hearted daughter! Mama needs a drink!’

‘Misery, meet company,’ said Rumple, raising his glass. ‘Master Aesop, we’re gonna need another round. This one’s on me, Ladies.’

‘Thanks,’ said Emma.

They clinked glass in a toast to their shared misery.

‘O-kay. Now, take a seat...’ Regina encouraged Emma, ‘and tell us all about that no-good pirate.’

But Emma didn’t seem up for spilling her guts just yet. Not until she had a few drinks in her. While she worked on her Dutch courage, Regina and Snow passed the time roundly abusing Moe French for what he did to Belle. When Emma next looked up from her drink she found Regina burning a hole in her head.

‘What are you looking at?’

‘I’m just... trying to figure out what it’ll take to get you to open up,’ said Regina impatiently.

‘Open... up what? I’m open. Hook... left. It sucks.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Like it sucks.’

‘Right. But are you mad, sad? Do you feel like throwing things, or... crying your eyes out?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Emma wearily. ‘Neither, both, all of it. I don’t know.’

‘And I thought I was tough to crack,’ said Regina drily.

‘Well,’ said Rumple, chiming into the conversation, ‘you had just lost two loves in the last year alone. First Walsh and then Neal, whilst trying to get your pretty blonde head around the fact that the year spent living with Henry in New York was based on a false set of memories. Your heart had taken a battering. Hook took advantage of that and sealed the deal by promising not to die on you.’

‘How did your father take it?’ Belle asked Emma.

‘Considering he gave his blessing to the man who murdered his father, after almost killing the wrong bastard? Surprisingly okay.’

‘And Hook just tried to cover it up?’

‘That’s right. He didn’t have the guts to come and tell me himself? We had a big fight about him hiding this, and I told him if he wasn’t ready to trust me, that... that we shouldn’t talk for a while, so I guess he wasn’t ready, because Leroy saw him on the docks, and he got on the _Nautilus_ and just... sailed away.’

‘That makes sense. When we first got back to the Enchanted Forest, the first thing Neal did was try and find a way to get back to you and Henry. Hook went straight to find his ship.’

‘And planned to steal another if he couldn’t,’ said Snow. ‘You were gone so he went back to being a pirate.’

‘Oh god…’ Emma groaned, realisation dawning on her and adding to her humiliation. ‘That was Neal’s memory potion, wasn’t it? He was dying so he couldn’t give it to me himself, so he sent it to Hook. And I got all doe-eyed thinking Hook came back for me, giving up his precious ship to find me again. But he didn’t, not until Neal gave him the potion.’

‘Not much of a sacrifice either considering he got his ship back,’ said Rumple.

‘Neal killed himself trying to get back to you, Emma,’ said Belle.

Emma played with her swan necklace, Graham’s shoelaces back on her wrist. ‘He still had this… and the dreamcatcher… flypaper for nightmares… It was supposed to represent our life together. I can’t believe this keychain survived the trip. Twice.’

‘Because, it was born out of true love,’ Belle told her as she told Neal.

‘He loved you, Emma,’ said Rumple. ‘He loved you and Henry so much.’

‘He loved you too,’ said Emma.

Rumple felt a jolt in his stomach and a pang in his heart at this sense of déjà vu, which had something to do with Miss Swan’s adventure back in time. ‘I wish I could say the same about my second born son. You didn’t see the hate in his eyes in Belle’s dream.’

‘I know how you feel,’ said Snow sympathetically. ‘Charming and I touched a unicorn’s horn to see Emma’s future, to see whether she’d turn out good or evil. He saw her goodness. I saw her darkness. She ripped out my heart and told me she didn’t care I was her mother. She hated me.’

‘So what do I do?’

‘Our actions made Emma good, but they almost made her bad. If you want a good relationship with your son – Hey!’

Everybody jumped as Snow raised her voice, pointing at a group of exiting Vikings, causing them to stop.

‘They’re leaving without paying,’ said Snow, getting up and striding over to the Vikings.

‘Do you ever not tattle?’ said Regina irritably

Rumple looked after Snow, still waiting for her advice on how to deal with his son, then, once it was clear that she wasn’t coming back, went back to his drink. ‘Great. Excellent advice.’

He downed it and joins the others as they watched a drunk Snow confront the tab dodgers.

‘Do you have a problem with us?’’ demanded the biggest Viking, pointing his axe at her.

Snow held her index fingers to her head, making it look like a Viking helmet and imitated his booming voice, ‘Yes, I _dooo_!’

Emma made to intervene before a pub brawl broke out, the Sheriff in her kicking in. ‘Okay, all right, let’s all just calm down.’

Snow seized the Viking’s daggers and threw on at the dartboard. It hit the bullseye. The others were deeply impressed. Even drunk Snow White was still a good shot.

‘How ’bout a wager?’ Snow challenged. ‘Loser pays both tabs.’

Emma sighed. Snow threw the second dagger and scored another bullseye.

‘Uh, so are you going to break this up?’ Regina prompted Emma.

Emma shook her head. ‘No. I know you want me to open up, but I really think I’d rather be distracted, and this seems like an excellent distraction from... you know, the thing that I would like to be distracted from.’

A Viking knife hit dartboard.

*

After a short but intense game Snow White beat the Vikings by 100 points to 46. As the losers, the Vikings had to pay the forfeit by paying for both parties tabs.

‘Hey,’ said Snow suddenly.

‘What now?’ said Regina with dread, setting her drink down with a thud. ‘Someone stealing drinks from the taps?’

‘The new pianist,’ said Snow, staring at the Coronian musician who had stepped in for the last guy, who was having his fingers treated. ‘He’s playing romantic songs.’

‘So?’ said Emma miserable, looking as though she wanted to drown herself in her drink, not helped by the fact that the concert pianist had a hook for a hand, even if it was more rustic than the sleek surgical instrument Hook had.

‘The pianist is changing the song for every person that comes in!’

‘The last guy did it for us too,’ said Belle.

‘I think he was trying to drum up sales,’ said Rumple, ‘make the punters depressed enough to drinks their troubles away.’

‘What did he do for you two?’

Rumple and Belle told them their playlists.

‘Out of Reach,’ Emma admitted.

‘Long Distance by Bruno Mars,’ said Snow. She eyed the back of the Hook Hand pianist’s head. ‘I wonder what he’ll choose for us now.’

‘I don’t think anyone’s in the mood for ‘Didn’t we almost have it all?’ or ‘Angel Eyes’,’ said Regina, with a glance at Emma.

‘Just ’cause you got “I Wanna Be Evil”,’ Snow argued.

‘Oh for God sake!’ snapped Emma.

She stood up and walked away. For a moment they all thought she had finally had enough and walked out. But she had merely circled round the bar and walking back towards them, past Hook Hand. The music changed and ‘Only You’ was filling the pub.

Emma smiled sadly as she sat back down. ‘Neal’s favourite song… our song.’

Regina looked relived that the choice of song hadn’t put her off or sent her into a deeper depression spiral.

‘Oh, this is a good game!’ said Snow, practically bouncing in her seat. ‘I’m going to try it!’

Snow shot around the bar, drew herself up and strolled past Hook Hand, who changed smoothly to ‘One Song’ from the Disney version of Snow White. Snow closed her eyes, smiling wistfully and touched her heart, thinking of her precious Prince Charming.

‘Belle, you next!’ said Snow, patting her on the back.

‘But we already know what…’ Belle began.

But Snow pulled her off the stool and propelled her forwards. Belle walked past the pianist. As expected, ‘Beauty and the Beast’ started to play. Belle couldn’t help but smile.

‘Of course. What else?’ said Regina, smiling grimly.

‘Come on, Regina! Try it, try it!’ said Snow.

Regina sighed. ‘Fine.’

For Regina, Hook Hand played ‘Everything I do, I do It For You’ in honour of Robin Hood.

‘Fitting tribute,’ said Rumple when Regina had sat down, trying to hold herself together. ‘So, Robin of Locksley really found his happy ending with Wish-Regina?

Regina showed him the new Page 23, which depicted Robin of Locksley and Wish-Regina, dressed like bandit Snow White, having a drink together in a faraway tavern.

‘I suppose you should be flattered.’

‘That another version of me is more happy than I am?’ said Regina.

‘That your love wasn’t a fluke or a discarded idea by the Author,’ Rumple elaborated. ‘You sent Wish-Robin to find his happy ending. And he did. He found it… with you. And however brief your time together was in this version of reality… you and Robin were meant to be.’

Regina smiled. ‘And in a hundred worlds, under any curse, in any version of reality, you and Belle will always find and choose each other.’

Rumple scoffed.

‘I’m serious. You fell in love in the Enchanted Forest. In the Wish Realm Enchanted Forest. She loved you when she had no memories and when she had fake ones. She loved you in _Heroes and Villains_ –

‘Because Isaac made her,’ said Rumple heavily. ‘Just like he made Snow love Prince James and Robin love Zelena. I never asked him to.’

‘Hey, it still counts. Out of all of us, it’s your relationship that’s been constant. You were together even before Snowing.’

‘Your turn, Rumple,’ said Belle now.

‘But we’ve already had our song,’ said Rumple.

‘Oh come on. We all got up.’

‘What other song could there possibly be that can be associated with me?’

At this, Snow broke into song:

♫Gold!  
Always believe in your soul  
You’ve got the power to know  
You’re indestructible  
Always believe in♫

Snow, Regina, Belle, even Emma, slammed their hands rhythmically on the bar top twice and threw them up in the air with a cry of ♫GOLD!♫

They started to laugh and even Rumple managed a reluctant chuckle.

‘Please, Rumple,’ wheedled Belle. ‘Pwetty pwease.’

Belle stroked his arm, smiling innocently and does the puppy-dog-eyes until...

Rumple sighed. ‘Oh, can those eyes get any bigger?’

He sighed again and got up to walk round the bar.

Snow suddenly went all Lady Gaga, snapping her fingers as she watched Rumple walking away, like a model, ♫Walk, walk, fashion, baby. Work it, move that bitch crazy.♫

Rumple stopped and turned back to the ladies trying to keep straight faces. ‘You know, Slushed Snow’s growing on me.’

He kept on walking, while Snow kept on singing about his runway-like strut. ♫Chanel, Dior, Lagerfeld, Givenchy, Gaultier, darling! Names, names, names!♫

Rumple rolled his eyes but smiled to himself as he swaggered round to the front. Hook Hand, not the least bit annoyed by their game, happily started playing ‘A Thousand Years.’ Rumple didn’t care that it wasn’t from their story or from this world’s franchise. He had loved Belle for what felt like a thousand years and would love her for a thousand more.

The gathering dispersed. Snow had been drawn back into a rematch with the Vikings and Regina had dragged Emma over to play pool, leaving Rumple and Belle alone at the bar.

‘I saw our son,’ Belle admitted.

Rumple looked round at her. ‘Really?’ Belle nodded. ‘I saw our daughter.’

‘I know. He told me she was clearing things up... Did she?’

Rumple nodded. ‘Nothing’s set in stone. Unless our son told you anything different?’

‘He loves you,’ Belle told him.

‘Now I know I’m dreaming.’

‘I got it wrong. You were right. That man in the dreamworld wasn’t our son.’

‘So who the hell was it?’ said Rumple frowning.

‘Charlie called them ‘The Great Evil’. The original darkness that brought us the sleeping curse and the Dark Curse; so was able to manipulate the Netherworld. Have you ever heard of this Great Evil?’

Rumple nodded darkly. ‘Yeah, she’s my mother.’

Belle stared in horror. ‘Why would she want to hurt her own grandchildren?’

‘To hurt me,’ said Rumple simply.

‘Her own son?’

‘That tells you all you need to know about her. Blood or mud, if you’re a threat to her you have to go. Unless you’re of value to her… until you’ve expended your usefulness.’

‘Our children are product of the rarest true love of all – borne of light and dark.’

‘Like I said; valuable.’

‘You’re valuable to me. And our son and daughter.’

‘I just wish our son could’ve told me himself.’

‘He will. He’ll love you as much as Tilly does. Just like I do.’

‘I hope so.’

Belle chewed the end of her straw for a moment and said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry I stole the six-leaf clover.’

‘Did Moe recognise you?’

‘Not until I took it off.’

‘In that case, I don’t think I’ve ever been more flattered. There’s not many who can pass off as me. Mind you, this is Moe French, and he’s not the sharpest thorn on the rose stem.’

Belle smiled faintly. ‘So…’ She glanced around _Æsop’s Tables_. ‘What do you think?’

Rumple imitated her. ‘Jury’s still out. But… you can’t deny the ambiance.’ He smiled at her. ‘By the way, they’re spinners.’

‘Really?’

‘Aye. And readers. We’ve got a couple of scholars on our hands…’

While Rumple and Belle put their heads together eagerly to discuss the twins, Emma left Regina playing pool and went back to the bar. ‘Can I get another drink?’

‘You got it,’ said Aesop.

Emma read the menu. ‘“The Dog and the Wolf”, “The Fox and the Grapes”…’

‘Best drinks in town... original, crafted, locally sourced where possible. I’d recommend “the Ant and the Grasshopper”.

Emma smiled. ‘So, you really are Aesop.’

‘That’s right. What gave it away?’

Apart from the fact that Rumple had said so, Emma showed him the menu with his name right at the top. He laughed.

‘How’d you end up a bartender?’

‘Well,’ Aesop chuckled, ‘I prefer “mixologist.” Um, but... well, I tried writing my own story, but I never could. It just kept coming out with talking animals and canned morals. Then I went to the Land of Untold Stories, because at least everyone’s story was untold.’

‘You couldn’t write your own story? Was it too complicated?’

‘Nah. That simple, I guess. “The Artist and His Wife”... he loves her, she decides she doesn’t love him back. That’s all there is.

‘Yeah...’ said Emma, her smile fading as she thought of Hook. ‘I know what that feels like.’

‘You lost someone, too?’

‘Someone I thought I knew.’ And then it seemed Emma was talking about the women she used to be before she came to Storybrooke. The version of herself she’d lost because of her relationship with Hook. ‘He always said he was a survivor. I thought that meant that he would... stick through things no matter what, but... really what it meant was that as things got tough, he just... took off.’

_Now look at it. Dried up, dead, useless... much like you…_

_I liked you the way you were. I liked your walls. I liked being the one to break them down…_

_I loved you…_

_Of course I still have feelings for you… Anger. Hatred. Disappointment…_

_And I now see you for what you really are... an anchor. And I see clearly now that you were nothing more than a pretty blonde distraction. But guess what, Swan? I am a free man now. And you will never hold me back from getting what I want again…_

_You’re so afraid of losing the people that you love that you push them away. And that's why you'll always be an orphan. You don’t need some villain swooping in to destroy your happiness. You do that quite well all on your own…_

_I want to hurt you... like you hurt me…_

As dark as Rumplestiltskin had been as the Dark One, he had never said such horrible things to Belle; nor had he never threatened to kill her entire family or planned to resurrect the Dark Ones out of vengeance.

_This isn’t just about them, this is about me…_

Everything had been about Hook. She gave and gave to give Hook his happy ending, and all he did was take and take, and when things didn’t go his way he’d turned his back on her.

Tears fell down Emma’s pale face. Aesop handed her a napkin. She dabbed her streaming eyes just as her mother and Regina came over.

‘Oh, Emma,’ said Snow, in a pacifying sort of voice.

Emma sighed, feeling as if she had lost a bet with herself not to show signs of weakness. ‘Well,’ she sighed, ‘you guys got what you wanted.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘Regina, you got what you wanted,’ she laughed bitterly and wetly.

‘I didn’t want it,’ said Regina gently.

Emma nodded. ‘I know. You were probably right.’ She sniffed again. ‘It’s probably what I needed. It’s probably... what I need to... move on.’ She sighed, putting her head in her hand. ‘Why do I always fall for the bad boy?’ she asked aloud.

‘Well now, hang on,’ said Rumple coming over with Belle. ‘I think you can exclude my son and Sheriff Graham from that statement – the two original romantic true loves of your life. As Belle pointed out, you loved my son so much that that swan necklace survived curses and your kiss woke up the Huntsman.’

‘Let me rephrase this: Why was I attracted to a person I knew wasn’t good? And please say it with the bear minimum of judgement and superiority.’

She had to hear it. How did she end up falling for a guy who, right up until their rescue mission to Neverland, made sexual and inappropriate passes at her and then treated her like a prize to be won. He had even demanded a kiss as a thank you for saving her father’s life.

‘All right then...’ said Rumple. ‘To quote Iris Simpkins: You were hoping you were wrong. He did something that told you he was no good, you ignored it. Every time he came through and surprised you, he won you over… and you lost that argument with yourself that he was not for you.’

‘Exactly. That’s very insightful.’

‘Well, I’ve been on both ends of the scale. The heartbroken and the disappointment.’

Belle glanced sideways at him.

‘And my downward spiral into darkness and trying to kill him certainly did make it easier for you to ignore any nagging doubts you may have had. For that I apologise.’

‘I thought, after Neal, I’d found my one true love, my prince.’  
  
‘But instead, he turned out to be just a frog? A codfish?’

‘I thought the true love scales in the Underworld proved it… now I know it was all my _true love_ heart. All that “product of true love” crap. I weighed Hook’s life over my own family and even though his heart was heavy, I still chose him… because I didn’t want to be alone. But I wasn’t alone. I had you guys.’

‘I know it hurts right now, Emma… you don’t just stop feeling things over night and I’m so sorry. But just know it will pass. I promise. It will get easier. In the meantime, don’t let that no-good pirate beat you. Okay? He’s alone, you’re not. As you’ve so rightly said; you’ve got your son, your parents and your friend slash step-grandmother slash co-parent.’  
  
Emma chuckled. ‘Even the, uh, slightly crazy unofficial father-in-law who despite everything, still manages to come through for us.’

Rumple blinked as he realized Emma meant him. Everyone laughed. Belle kissed Rumple’s shoulder.

‘You’re right.’ Emma threw down her tear soaked napkin. ‘To hell with Hook.’

‘Attagirl,’ said Regina happily.

Behind them, Viking Stoick from the Isle of Berk whistled a tune into the microphone, drawing the whole pubs attention as he delicately helped his wife Valka onto the stage. For a big, strong and intimidating looking man, he sung an old Viking courting song very softly as he gazed at his love with misty eyes:

♫I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,

With ne’er a fear of drowning.

And gladly ride the waves of life,

If you will marry me.

No scorching sun, nor freezing cold

Will –♫

♫– will stop me on my journey!♫ burst out Gobber from the back. He caught himself, embarrassed. ‘Sorry.’

Stoick scowled at him, and then returned his attention to Valka. ♫If you will promise me your heart... ♫

♫And love me for eternity,♫ Valka returned.

Stoick beamed. As they sang their duet Belle brushed past Rumple, standing into the centre of the pub and held her forearm aloft in invitation. Rumple looked surprised for a moment then crossed his forearm against hers, initiating a beautiful dance to accompany the song.

♫My dearest one, my darling dear,

Your mighty words astound me.

But I’ve no need of mighty deeds,

When I feel your arms around me.♫

The dance was full of charming missteps as Rumple and Belle’s movements went from tentative to letting themselves go in the happiness of moment, before Emma’s wonder-struck eyes.

♫But I would bring you rings of gold.

I’d even sing you poetry.

And I would keep you from all harm,

If you’d stay here beside me.♫

♫I have no use for rings of gold.

I care not for your poetry.

I only want your hand to hold.♫

♫I only want you near me.♫

Gobber couldn’t help himself. He started dancing and singing, too, while the onlooker started clapping along as Rumple and Belle danced faster.

♫To love and kiss, to sweetly hold.

For the dancing and the dreaming.

Through all life’s sorrows and delights,

I’ll keep your love inside me.♫

Emma, Regina and Snow watched from the bar, amazed and delighted by the sight of the giddy Golds moving with a abandon; spinning and laughing in each other’s arms, reunited.

♫I’ll swim and sail through savage seas,

With ne’er a fear of drowning.

And gladly ride the waves

Of life, if you will marry me!♫

The song ended, which was lucky; for in their exuberance Rumple and Belle lost their balance and toppled over onto the floor with noises of alarm from the women at the bar and the watching punters. Rumple landed on his back and Belle fell on top of him, both winded and laughing, while on stage Gobber carried the last note, unaware of what had happened.

♫I’m still going...♫ Gobber sang joyously, until Vladimir cuffed him on the back of the head, which sobered him up at once. ‘I’m done.’

Stoick and Valka had come down from the stage and were helping the Golds up, as they continued to laugh, not the least bit embarrassed.

‘Up you come, wee lassie!’ said Stoick, lifting Belle clean off the floor before setting her on her feet.

‘Food of love, indeed,’ said Valka as she dusted Rumple down.

‘All right?’ Rumple asked Belle, still chuckling.

‘Yeah,’ said Belle, giggling.

‘Call it a night?’

‘Ok.’

Aesop appeared at that moment with their coats and Rumple held Belle’s out like a gentleman as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. Emma smiled at them. They had had their ups and downs, but their love had never died. And they had fought for their relationship, even when the situation seemed hopeless and the prospect of a happy ending seemed unattainable. She made to lean on the bar, but too busy watching the Golds her elbow missed the edge, causing her to slop most of her drink onto the floor.

‘Oh jeez!’ she cursed.

‘I think someone needs to go home,’ said Rumple, amused.

‘Oh no, I’m not that drunk,’ Emma insisted.

‘Not you.’

For an answer he tilted his head. Looking round, Emma saw that Snow was passed out on the bar top, fast asleep.

‘When did that happen?’ said Regina incredulously.

Emma watched her sleeping mother, thinking of her sleeping father back home. ‘Do you think they at least meet in sleep?’

‘Knowing your parents, I think they just might,’ said Rumple. ‘In fact…’

He conjured a bottle of golden sands into his hand. He held it out to Emma.

‘This might help. No guarantees; but it did help me find Belle in her dreams. Maybe it’ll help them find each other, one last time.’

Emma took the phial from him and grinned. ‘I thought you said you were done helping us.’

Rumple shrugged casually. ‘I’m a fan of true love, dearie. And I put a lot of effort getting your parents together and ensuring your conception. Call it for old time’s sake. And your father did do me a favour.’

‘So… no price? I don’t have to do anything for this?

‘Just one thing: Don’t blow it. That’s all I have left of it.’

Emma laughed. ‘Thank you, Gold.’

Regina sidled over at that moment. ‘So that’s what Rumplestiltskin’s like with his hair down?’ she said, impressed. ‘Looks good on you. You smiling.’

‘I’ll have to watch that.’

Aesop came over with a card machine. Regina reached inside her pocket but Rumple waved her credit card away and handed over his own.

‘A gentleman always pays, Regina.’

Regina grinned. ‘Great. You can come to girl’s night again.’

Belle raised an eyebrow and Regina’s smile faded.

‘Both of you,’ she added sincerely. ‘I’m sorry for taking your heart, Belle. Robin being in danger and my perusing my own happiness doesn’t excuse what I did to you and Gold. I know it’s a little late, but I am sorry, Belle. Truly sorry.’ 

‘Thank you,’ said Belle.

‘You’ll both come next time?’

Rumple and Belle look at each other and nodded.

‘We wouldn’t miss it,’ said Rumple.

As they walked out Rumple saw Vladmir holding two tiny ceramic unicorns in his enormous hands. He bumped them together in a kiss and smiled at him. Rumple grinned. As they exited, Hook Hand switched from playing The Cinematic Orchestra’s _Arrival of the Birds and Transformation_ to a rendition of ‘Fire On Fire’.

They stepped out into the night air and wandered vaguely in the direction of Granny’s, their arms wrapped around the others waist, feeling better than they had felt in ages, Hook Hand’s ballad still following them.

‘Thank you for helping me have fun tonight,’ said Belle.

‘I quite enjoyed it myself,’ Rumple admitted.

‘I can’t believe Hook took off like that.’

‘Abandoning ship – that’s Hook all over.’

‘I thought he’d changed.’

‘Changed sides, maybe.’

‘Will Emma be all right?’

‘Yes, in time. She’s still got her family… She’ll remember what happiness is again without Hook blocking out the sun.’

‘Rumple…’

‘Sorry.’

Belle sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I miss this.’

‘Me too.’

Belle stopped walking and so did Rumple. ‘I’ve been thinking…’

‘A dangerous pastime,’ said Rumple sagely.

‘How long have we been married, Rumple?’

‘Nearly five months.’

‘And of those five months, how long were we actually together?’

‘About twenty days. Off and on.’

Belle sighed. ‘We really are a broken teacup.’

‘Belle?’

‘Even if you put it back together, it won’t ever be the same as it once was. It’s not just chipped, it’s covered in cracks.’

Rumple thought of their chipped cup that he had put back together with his own gold (being unable to find any glue). He could’ve repaired it by magic, but had decided not to, wanting to put it back together by hand, the long way. The difficult way. Using magic would just undermine the effort and determination. Too long he’d used magic as the easy way out, much like Regina had done. If they were going to put themselves back together, it needed to be done by hand. The long way. Or else it wouldn’t be worth anything.

‘You know, in Kintsugi, they repair broken things with gold and it makes it more beautiful for having been broken. It’s part of the history of the object, rather than something to disguise.’

‘Yeah,’ said Belle slowly, comparing Kintsugi to their chipped cup/situation. ‘Hard as it was we shouldn’t hide it. We should wear our gold scars with pride. The flaw is the unique piece of its history, which adds to its beauty, strength and value, because it’s transformed through all we’ve been through.’

‘What’re you saying?’

‘That I’m done making golden roadmaps on our chipped cup.’ Belle took her wedding ring off her necklace. ‘It’s time to come home. Where we belong.’

‘Belle…’ Rumple breathed, his heart beating faster. ‘…are you sure?’

Belle gave Rumple her ring, so that she could give it back to her. ‘I want to be yours.’

Fighting to keep his hands steady, Rumple slipped the ring delicately back onto his wife’s finger. ‘Forever...’

He bent down and kissed it. Then his lifted his free hand and stroked her cheek, causing her eyes to flutter and close briefly at his touch.

‘And I have always been, and will forever be, yours.’

*

Rumple and Belle returned home to the salmon pink Victorian house. Mrs Weaver wasn’t there. She had left a note left by the front door telling them she was babysitting Henry, cursed Charming and baby Neal, and would be staying overnight.

So they had the house to themselves.

They climbed the stairs to their bedroom and settled themselves on their marital bed. The last time they had shared this bed they had conceived their future son and daughter. They kiss tenderly, taking time undressing each other. They kissed until Belle let out a sob, and Rumple started crying too, their naked bodies gripping each other tightly as if they expected to be ripped away from each other at any moment. This was the closet they had been in far too long.

‘Oh god, wasted time!’ Rumple sobbed, his face buried in the crook of her neck. ‘All that wasted time we could’ve been at it! We could’ve been at it, Belle…’

Belle nodded, pulling back so that they could look into their beautiful tear-filled eyes. ‘Like hammer and tong.’

‘Aye.’

‘Like knives.’

‘Aye. Oh gods, Belle, when I think how much I wanted you –’ He kissed her again, tasting her tears ‘– what we could’ve been…’

They rested their foreheads against each other.

‘Life never works out as we planned,’ said Belle.

‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to be,’ said Rumple miserably.

‘I know. Baelfire should be here with us… with Emma, being a good father to Henry, and being the best big brother to his little brother and sister. Lots of couples hit a bump in the road. We’ll try again.’

‘But it’s our marriage.’

That was the hardest part. All those months of wedded-domestic bliss, of showing Belle the world, of hard-won happiness, all ruined because of him.

‘No, it’s not. This is just a practice marriage. We’re saving the real thing for later.’ Belle sounded utterly self-assured.

‘Practice marriage?’ Rumple repeated. He felt confused and yet hopeful.

Belle nodded seriously. ‘Practice marriage. We went from master and maid to boyfriend and girlfriend to fiancés and then to husband and wife so fast there was no time to do everything in between. Things went wrong – curses, pirates, evil wicked sorceresses, death, our own demons – we’ve been separated so much, I think we just wanted to be together so badly. But that’s why we’re practicing, so when it’s time for the real thing, we get it right.’

It sounded ridiculous, but Rumple felt his soul unclench at the idea of a practice marriage. He hadn’t ruined what was supposed to be the happiest time of their lives. This was just the practice round. They were just ironing out the kinks. It didn’t count, and therefore, it wasn’t worth beating himself up about it. And Belle had admitted that she had contributed as well and she had learned from what she had done wrong too.

Rumple smiled. ‘Practice makes perfect.’

Belle beamed at him. ‘Exactly. Perfectly imperfect, that’s us. We’ll stop the threat to our family and get things properly sorted for when the babies come. Then we can start planning our real honeymoon and the real marriage can start. A happy ending.’

But Rumple shook his head. A happy ending meant the story was over. But their story was far from over. There were still more adventures to be had. ‘No. A happy beginning.’

‘Yeah.’ Belle kissed her husband, her wedding ring sparkling in the moonlight. She pulled him gently down. ‘Please… I need my true love inside of me.’

‘Is this safe?’ Rumple asked anxiously. His hand rested on her stomach, beneath which their babies nestled.

‘Well, I can’t get _more_ pregnant.’

Rumple kissed her, his deep brown eyes burning with desire. They had a lot of catching up to do. ‘We’ll see about that…’

They kissed passionately, trying to make up for five months of lost kisses, feeling the delightful heat spread through them as Rumple pulled the duvet over their heads.

https://chippedcupwrites.tumblr.com/post/147816883352/the-ladies-were-brilliant-the-best-sports-i-had

https://arighe.tumblr.com/post/46958468835

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven’t worked out what the dance is from For the Dancing and the Dreaming. It seems to be a mixture of Sweetheart Schottische, Highland Hustle and Strip the Willow. If anyone knows its proper name, please let me know.
> 
> Also, I know Fire On Fire – Sam Smith (From “Watership Down” 2018) wasn’t released in the timeline, but it’s such a Rumbelle song, I had to include it.
> 
> Aesop’s Tables drinks:
> 
> Rumple: The Wolf and the Horse - Men of evil reputation, when they perform a good deed, fail to get credit for it.  
> The Oxen and the Axle Trees - Those who suffer most cry out the least.  
> The Fox Who Had Lost His Tail - Misery loves company.
> 
> Belle: The Lion and the Mouse - No act of kindness is Ever Wasted.  
> The Seaside Travelers - Our mere anticipations of life outrun its realities.  
> The Father and His Two Daughters - You can't please everybody.
> 
> Emma: The Hares and the Frogs - There is always someone worse off than yourself.  
> The Shipwrecked Impostor - A liar deceives no one but himself.  
> The Master and His Dogs - He is not to be trusted as a friend who mistreats his own family.  
> The Ant and the Grasshopper - It is best to prepare for the days of necessity.
> 
> Snow: The Old Woman and the Wine Jar - The memory of a good deed lives.  
> The Dog and the Oyster - They who act without sufficient thought, will often fall into unsuspected danger.  
> The Four Oxen and the Lion - United we stand, divided we fall.
> 
> Regina: The Traveler and Fortune - Everyone is more or less master of his own fate.  
> The Bald Man and the Fly - Revenge will hurt the avenger.  
> The Kings Son and the Painted Lion - We had better bear our troubles bravely than try to escape them.
> 
> The Dog and the Wolf - Better starve free than be a fat slave.  
> The Fox and the Grapes - It is easy to despise what you cannot get.  
> 


End file.
